


Lost and Found

by shadowsamurai



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 14:07:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 28,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowsamurai/pseuds/shadowsamurai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Boyd arrives at work to find that Grace has once again left the team, and him, but this time it seems permanent. Are things really as they seem? Or is there something more sinister going on?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [missduncan](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=missduncan).



> Story is set after 'Yahrzeit' (Season 6) but before Season 7. 
> 
> So, this story is now highly appropriately named! Written many moons ago, it was somehow lost when I transferred my stories from FFN to here, though I didn't realise until someone brought it to my attention a couple of weeks ago. With no backup copies of my stories, I thought this one was well and truly lost. Until a good friend said they had kept a copy - story was now found! A huge thank you to Gemenied for being my (and this story's!) saviour. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing things for a while and I promise I'll put everything back exactly how I found it when I've finished. Well, almost exactly how I found it. ;)

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Boyd pulled into the car park and rested his head back against the seat. He wasn't sure he was ready to break the careful spell that had been woven; for the first time in a long time, he was genuinely happy, and he had no idea how long it would last, so he was determined to make the most of it. Boyd wouldn't have gone so far as to say he loved Sarah, but there was a definitely a connection between them. And she fancied the hell out of him.

Sighing, Boyd knew he could delay the return to work no longer. Climbing out of his car, he turned the collar of his coat up against the rain that had set it. Looking skyward, Boyd wondered if the weather was better in America.

Spencer and Stella were already at their desks when Boyd entered the squad room, which was no surprise. Grace hadn't arrived yet - again, no surprise there - and Eve had probably been in her lab since dawn.

"Morning," Boyd said to his subordinates as he walked into his office.

"Morning, boss," Spencer replied. Stella just waved; she was busy on the telephone.

"Anything interesting I should know about?" Boyd asked, coming up to their desks, running a hand over his hair to remove the surface water.

Spencer leant back in his chair, stretched and shook his head. "It's been like a graveyard."

Boyd smiled. "So Eve's been enjoying herself then."

Still on the phone, Stella's face suddenly fell and her tone turned despondent. "Oh, right. Well, thank you." She put the receiver down and cursed in French. "Potential case," she told Boyd.

"And?"

"And we're not getting it. No a cold case at all, it seems." Stella stood up and walked over to the coffee machine. "I hate slow days."

"Don't we all," Boyd replied, passing his and Spencer's mugs to the DC. Once they were full, he handed Spencer's back to him. "I'll be in my office if anything interesting happens."

"Don't worry, boss, you'll be the first to know if it does," Spencer called after him.

Boyd sat at his desk and for a small, irrational moment, he wished for paperwork. He wished for something, *anything* to do that would take his mind off Sarah and America, and wondering what direction their relationship was going in. He hoped it would last, but he knew that realistically, it wouldn't. It *couldn't*. Sarah had a life in America she wasn't about to sacrifice, and he had a life in England he refused to give up.

That was when Boyd saw it, and he wondered how he had missed it in the first place. A piece of paper, addressed to him, sitting on his desk, underneath a file but still visible. Pulling it out, Boyd was surprised to see it was covered with Grace's distinctive scrawl. Sipping his coffee, he started to read, wondering why she had left him a note.

*Dear Boyd,

I would tell you not to worry about the contents of this letter but I would be lying. I would ask, though, that you don't unleash your anger on the rest of the team. They don't deserve it.

There's no easy way of saying what I want to tell you, so I'll just come out with it: I'm leaving. I know I've said that before, but this time is different. This time I mean it and I won't be coming back.

Perhaps by now you're too angry to care about the reasons, but I'm going to tell you anyway. You've never been particularly easy to work with, but in the beginning you listened to me, and you even talked to me on occasion. But over the years you've grown more reticent - you seem to neither need me nor want me any longer. As a friend, I feel my presence is certainly not required, and as a profiler…less and less it seems.  
My resignation has been submitted to the Home Office; it's your job to inform the commissioner. You know how I feel about him anyway. The last thing I wanted was to have to explain myself to a square-arsed bureaucrat who's barely out of short trousers.

And before you think of phoning or calling around to see me to try and convince me to change my mind, please don't. I don't want to see you, Boyd, at all. I can't be any clearer that than. If you care about me in any way at all, you'll respect my decision.

Goodbye, Peter

Grace*

Boyd read the letter through several times before lifting his head and yelling, "Spence!" at the top of his voice.

The DI appeared in the doorway a few seconds later, his expression apprehensive. "Yeah, boss?"

"When was the last time you saw Grace?"

Spencer frowned. "A couple of days ago."

"What?" Boyd's voice was flat and menacing.

"It was the weekend," Spencer said defensively. "Grace left early on Friday, around two thirty, because it's been so quiet. None of us were in over the weekend, so I haven't seen her for a couple of days. Why?"

Boyd didn't reply; he was already reaching for his phone. "Go away, Spence."

"What was that all about?" Stella asked the DI as he returned to his desk.

Spencer shook his head. "I have no idea."

In his office, Boyd phoned Grace's home number and mobile several times, each time receiving no answer and after a while, he yelled in frustration. He didn't want to believe the letter was true; he couldn't believe Grace would just…run away like that. Something wasn't right, Boyd was sure of that. But if it really was Grace's wish to be left alone, then him going round battering the door down wouldn't do any good at all.

"Spence!" he shouted again.

The DI sighed and pushed himself to his feet. "Yeah, boss?"

"Take Stella and go round to Grace's house now," Boyd ordered him.

"What's goi-?"

"MOVE!" Boyd roared. Spencer didn't waste another breath. He turned and motioned Stella to follow him. Boyd's voice drifted down the corridor to them. "Phone me when you get there!"

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

It seemed to Boyd that his subordinate officers took an eon to reach the profiler's house. He was pacing a groove across the length of the squad room when Eve came in. She took one look at him, turned and left again without another word. Boyd didn't even notice her brief presence; he was too busy trying to hold his world together. If Grace had left the team because of him, he would never forgive himself. He would carry on doing what he did, but it wouldn't be any kind of life; it would just be living.

On the other hand, if something had happened to Grace, Boyd still wouldn't forgive himself, but everything would come apart at the seams, causing his world to crash noisily around his ears.

There was no doubting Grace had written the letter; Boyd just had to be sure whether it had been of her own free will or under duress. He swore loudly, having almost jumped out of his skin, when his phone rang. "Talk to me."

*"Grace isn't answering, Boyd,"* Spencer told him.

Boyd hesitated before giving his next order. "Go into the house, Spence. I want to know if Grace has been there recently."

*"She'll kill us."*

"Do it!" Boyd yelled.

Spencer grumbled and handed his phone to Stella, who decided it was best to give her boss a running commentary of what was happening. *"Spence is picking the lock, sir."*

Boyd suddenly heard crackling. "What's that?"

*"A large pile of post,"* Spencer replied, the frown evident in his voice. *"Hang on."*

Boyd did so, but nervously, his pacing never ceasing. "Well?"

Spencer's tone was grim. *"I'd say Grace hasn't been here for a couple of days, boss."*

"Any indication she's gone away?" Boyd asked. He heard the DI repeat his question and Stella say she would check upstairs.

A moment later, he had his answer. *"I think all of Grace's clothes are still here, sir,"* Stella said. *"No suitcase missing or anything like that."*

Boyd's heart plummeted to his stomach for a short while before descending right to his toes and then bouncing straight back up, landing in his throat. The lump didn't move from there. "Get back here now," he ordered them, his voice hoarse, and put the phone down. Instinctively, he looked towards Grace's office. "Where are you, Grace?"

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Two shadows fell over Boyd's desk from behind, but he didn't need to turn to see who was about to enter the squad room. Stella and Spencer had made record time back to the office, and Boyd had no doubts they would now want some answers, but he didn't know if he was ready to give them some.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stella and Spencer conversing quietly, no doubt trying to ascertain whether there was cause for worry or not. Boyd lowered his eyes. If he told them, they'd only blame him. Maybe Grace had gone away, maybe she really didn't want to see him again, but that didn't stop worry gnawing at Boyd's gut.

Spencer knocked on the door and then popped his head into Boyd's office. "You okay, sir?"

"Fine," he replied automatically.

Spencer stepped into the room, frowning. "With all due respect, boss, you're not fine. What's going on, Boyd?"

"Leave me alone, Spence."

"Not until you tell me what's going on."

"This note," Boyd said, waving Grace's letter about, "Asks me not to take my anger out on you, Stella and Eve. I won't ask you again: go away."  
Oddly, Spencer noted as he nodded, turned and closed the door, there was no anger in Boyd's voice, only dejection.

Boyd rounded his desk and closed all the blinds, ignoring the strange glances his junior officers gave him. As he sat back down, he stared blankly at the wall for a few moments before reaching down to the bottom drawer and taking his scotch bottle and a glass out. Boyd refused to look at the time; it didn't matter anyway. He poured himself a drink and sipped at it, wondering why the hell things always went from great to crap in an instant.

When his phone rang, he almost jumped out of his skin. Snatching the receiver up, Boyd answered, "Grace?"

There was a brief silence. *"No, it's me. Sarah."*

Boyd couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice as he replied, "Oh. Hi."

Sarah's tone dropped a few degrees in temperature. *"Maybe I should call back later, when you're not as preoccupied. Unless there's something you want to tell me now, Boyd. About you and Grace?"*

His glass abruptly stopped its journey towards his mouth. "What?"

*"Oh, come on, Boyd! I never believed you when you said you and her were just friends, and now, you answer the phone and her name is the first one you say, you bastard! You lied to me and I believed you!"*

Boyd slammed his glass down on the desk, spilling whisky all over, but he didn't notice. "Grace has left the team and no one knows where she it!" he shouted back.

*"Boyd, I…,"* Sarah began apologetically.

"I'm busy," he told her flatly. "Don't bother calling later either." He slammed the phone down, picked up his glass and swore when he realised there was liquid everywhere. In a fit of rage, Boyd hurled the tumbler across the room. It smashed quite satisfactorily, and he was almost amused when no one came to see what was happening.

Lowering his head into his hands, Boyd tried to rein his temper in. After a few moments, he rose, picked up Grace's letter and headed towards the squad room. It was time to break the news to the team.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

"Get Eve," Boyd ordered Stella. The young DC scurried away and returned two minutes later with a confused-looking scientist.

"Have we got a case?" Eve asked hopefully when she saw the look on Boyd's face.

"We're not sure," Spencer told her.

Boyd glared at him. "There is no case." The rest of the team stared back and the DSI sighed. "Alright, I *hope* there isn't a case."

Eve looked surprised. "Really?"

Boyd nodded and held the piece of paper he was holding up. "This was on my desk when I got in this morning. It's from Grace. It says that she's left the team and doesn't want anyone to contact her, especially me. And before you ask, she says I'm the reason she's left." He glanced from face to face. "You can shout at me if you want. I deserve any blame you want to shoulder onto me."

The team sat in shocked silence for a few moments. Of all the announcements they thought Boyd was going to make, Grace's sudden departure was not one of them. But it was his admittance to being the one at fault that really surprised, and worried, the team.

Finally, Spencer spoke up. "Look, sir, we all know you're not the easiest person to get along with at times…."

Boyd glared at him. "That's what Grace said in her letter," he grumbled, but unfortunately, the DI heard him.

"Great minds think alike. As I was saying, you're not the easiest person to work with sometimes, but out of all of us, Grace is the most tolerant. Upping and leaving like this just doesn't sound like her at all."

Stella nodded. "I agree. Anyway, none of us can be easy to work with sometimes, but we get by."

Boyd ran his hand through his short silver hair. "This is Grace's handwriting, her speech patterns," he said, pointing to the letter. "And she wasn't at home which means she really doesn't want to be disturbed."

"You're taking this quite well, Boyd," Eve pointed out. "And you're taking the facts at face value, which isn't like you."

"What do you want me to do?" he shouted, gesturing around the squad room with one arm. "Starting tearing the city apart looking for Grace? Imagine she's been kidnapped by some psychopath? Don't you think I'm worried about her? About how this team's going to cope without her? I'm not a monster." The last few words were spoken in a whisper.

Stella leant forward. "We know, sir. We all want to think the same, that Grace has just gone away for a while, to get some space. But in this job, we automatically start thinking the worst."

Spencer nodded his agreement. "And none of us think you're to blame…for a change," he added with a grin.

Boyd was too tired to smile back but his eyes showed his appreciation for his DI's attempt to lighten the mood. He felt bone weary, despite the fact it wasn't even lunch time; Boyd thought if he closed his eyes, he could sleep for a week.

"Sir, can I see the letter?" Stella asked suddenly. "Please?"

Boyd frowned but handed it to her. "Why?"

"There might be something to indicate whether Grace really is okay or not," the DC replied quietly, studying the piece of paper.

"I can run some tests on it afterwards," Eve offered.

"What is it with you people?" Boyd exploded, his emotions running roughshod over him. "Grace has left; that's it! No conspiracy theory, no psy-"

"Sir, something isn't right," Stella said, looking up.

Boyd stared at her. "What?" he asked flatly.

"Right here, where Grace says about the commissioner. I thought she liked him."

Spencer nodded in agreement. "I remember her saying he was the first decent senior policeman to be in charge of us since AAC Christie."

Boyd suddenly sank into the nearest chair. "Read that part of the letter for me please, Stella."

The DC nodded. "'My resignation has been submitted to the Home Office; it's your job to inform the commissioner. You know how I feel about him anyway. The last thing I wanted was to have to explain myself to a square-arsed bureaucrat who's barely out of short trousers.'"

Eve shook her head. "He's at least middle-aged and he was actually a serving officer, not a fast-tracked copper," she pointed out, but received no reply from Boyd. Turning, Eve saw a guilt-ridden expression on his face. "Boyd, it wasn't your fault. If any one of us had received this letter instead, we wouldn't have noticed that either."

"I should have," he replied hoarsely.

"It's not your fault, boss," Spencer told him firmly.

"And here as well," Stella said, pointing to another part of the letter. "'I don't want to see you, Boyd, at all'. Grace said on Friday, before she left work, that she was looking forward to you coming back from America. She said you were always in a good mood after visiting Sarah and that she was going to take advantage of that to talk to you about a few things regarding her role on the team."

"Her role on the team?" Boyd repeated.

"Not in a bad way," Stella continued hurriedly. "Grace just wanted to tell you about some research she was doing and some new…forensic profiling…thing…." The DC blushed furiously. "I wasn't actually listening properly."

Boyd finally smiled, the first one he'd cracked in hours. "That's alright, Stella. We're coppers; we don't deal with technical talk too often."

"Unless it's cars and stereos," Spencer added.

"And computers," Eve told him.

The DI nodded. "That as well."

"So, what do we think?" Boyd asked seriously, leaning forward onto the desk.

Spencer looked around and then spoke up. "I think it's safe to say Grace could be in some sort of trouble. It's like she was leaving us clues to find in that letter."

"We should set up some surveillance of her house," Stella suggested.

Boyd nodded slowly. "Good idea but we'll never get approval for it."

"We don't have to," Eve said. "We could do it ourselves. I mean, we're not exactly buried with work at the moment, are we?" She pulled a face. "Sorry, not the best choice of words."

"I think that's a good idea," Spencer replied, then looked at Boyd. "Want us to draw up a rota?"

A sudden feeling of pride surged in Boyd's chest, threatening to take his breath away, and tears started to form at the corners of his eyes. Taking a deep, subtle breath, he nodded. "Thanks. I'll be in my office." He stood and left the squad room, not relaxing until he was safely behind his desk. "When we work as a team, we work well," Boyd murmured. "You'd be proud too, Grace."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Boyd wasn't sure how long he had sat staring at his desk, but it was long enough for a mug of coffee - which he didn't even know he had - to go stone cold. Someone had Grace. Grace was in trouble. And he had no idea whatsoever how to help her.

Out in the squad room and the lab, the team were taking the letter apart, trying to pick out any other clue it might hold. Spencer had put together a schedule for watching Grace's house, but Boyd couldn't remember a single detail of it. He just hoped someone would tell him when it was his turn to sit sentry, and that someone else would tell him to go home when his tour was over.

Eve came through the doors looking grim and defeated. She said something to Spencer and Stella that Boyd couldn't hear; his office door was shut. Then the scientist looked over at him and shook his head. The letter hadn't revealed any forensics; anything on there belonged to Grace and no one else. It was starting to look hopeless.

And now, as Boyd sat in his car, his cold breath freezing in the air, he wondered for the hundredth time if they were just chasing shadows. What if Grace really had just gone away and the whole team was overreacting? He grunted. The chances of that happening were almost non-existent, and he knew he was hoping that was the scenario. But still….

A rap on the window made Boyd swear and jump violently, crashing his knees against the steering wheel, making him swear even more. He looked up and for a moment he froze. The person looking back at him could have been a young Grace.

Boyd shook his head and looked again. His mind was playing tricks on him. True, the young woman had blue, gentle eyes and blonde hair, but she looked nothing like Grace. Wondering what was happening, Boyd just stared at her.

"Would you mind stepping out of the vehicle slowly, sir, please?" she said, and it was only then that Boyd noticed the police uniform she was wearing.

Closing his eyes briefly and taking a deep, calming breath, Boyd reached inside his coat and pulled out his ID. "Detective Superintendent Boyd," he told her. "I'm working."

The WPC looked slightly abashed but stood her ground. "I'm sorry, sir. I wasn't aware of any operations in this area."

"It's top secret," Boyd replied, groaning inwardly at how James Bond he sounded.

But the WPC just nodded. "I see, sir. Sorry to have bothered you."

Put his ID away, Boyd sighed and pulled his phone out. It was time to head a problem off before it even had a chance to take its first breath.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Boyd closed his front door behind him and sagged against it. His talk with the commissioner had gone much better than he'd expected; the commissioner had expressed his concern over Grace's departure and allowed the team forty eight hours to find more solid evidence she was indeed in trouble. After that time, life would have to return to normal, no matter what.

Boyd had huffed and puffed at that, but it was more of a natural reaction than a substantial argument. He was grateful for the time the commissioner had given them and he knew he couldn't ask for anything more.

Stella and Spencer had questioned some of Grace's neighbours discreetly, but they hadn't seen her for days, which in itself wasn't unusual. But there had been no noise from her house in an evening, and they had noticed that at times, Grace liked to play loud music. At first the neighbours assumed it was when she'd had a stressful day at work, but it seemed to happen almost every night. Both Spencer and Stella had smiled and replied that their job was quite stressful.

It was looking more and more likely something had happened to Grace, but Eve hadn't found any evidence at her house, which had greatly frustrated the scientist.

Boyd trudged upstairs to the bathroom, intent of taking a shower before he tried to get some sleep. He knew he needed to rest, but he doubted very much he'd be able to drift off.

He started peeling his clothes off slowly, his mind totally detached from the actions his body was carrying out. He turned the shower on, steam billowing out into the bathroom seconds later, but for a time, Boyd just stood staring at the wall. He had no idea where Grace was or who was holding her captive, and the longer they went without news from or of her, the less likely the chance of finding Grace alive. He knew it was morbid thinking, but as Stella had said, in their job they automatically thought the worst in such situations.

Taking a shaky breath and swallowing the tears that threatened to spill forth, Boyd stepped under into the shower, the jet of water offering none of the relaxation and comfort it usually did. He had no idea why he was so upset; Grace had been in trouble before. In fact, most of the team had been in one dangerous circumstance or another in their careers. But this felt different; for Boyd, this felt as though he was losing a part of himself and it wasn't a feeling he liked.

Boyd bowed his head under the jet of water and placed his palms against the cool tiles. The water hammered the knotted muscles in his shoulders and he closed his eyes as he tried to will his body to relax.

The shower was too hot, Boyd knew that, but the stinging sensation on his back let him know he was still alive; that he could still feel *something*, other than the overwhelming sense of failure that he hadn't felt since….

Boyd shook his head. Thinking 'since Joe disappeared' wasn't technically true: there had been the time he had let Spencer get shot; the time he had let Felix take a face full of acid; the time had had let Frankie leave without trying to stop her; the time he had let Mel die.  
Deep down, *deep down*, Boyd knew most of those instances weren't directly his fault, but that didn't make him feel any less culpable. He had always been responsible for people, but he had always let people down. And now it was possible the closest friend he had - the *only* friend he had - was going to pay the price for his selfish neglect.

Boyd suddenly started to shake and his palms slide down the tiles as he fell to his knees. He screwed his eyes shut, wanting it to be nothing more than a dream. He wanted to wake up, go to work and shout at everyone like normal. Boyd wanted everything to be normal.  
But it wasn't, and he didn't know it would be again. Not knowing what else to do, Boyd started to crying.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

*Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.*

Boyd's forehead creased slightly at the noise, but he tried to ignore it.

*Tick.

Tock.*

His frown deepened and he looked up, over his glasses, but he couldn't see a clock anywhere. Boyd shook his head. It was stupid. He knew damn well there was no clock in his office. In fact, the only place that had a clock was Grace's room.

*Tick.

Tock.*

Boyd grunted, took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. Typical. The psychology of the situation was staring him in the face, literally.  
The end of the commissioner's forty eight hour window was drawing to a close; Boyd had set his watch on his desk so he could count the minutes down. And the fact that the only clock in the CCHQ belonged to Grace only served as a stark reminder that she was still nowhere to be found.

Boyd had hardly slept for three days now, which was only the tip of the iceberg of reasons for his bad mood. Grace's disappearance was no doubt the biggest factor, but a string of voicemail messages from Sarah wasn't helping his disposition either. Boyd wasn't sure which part of 'I don't want to hear from you again' she didn't understand.

All of a sudden the double doors leading from the lab burst open and Eve strode in, swearing like a sailor whose leave had just been cancelled. With a curious expression, Boyd watched as the scientist tried to calm herself down.

"Problem?" Stella asked quietly.

"Yes. I…can't…find…*anything* out of the ordinary," Eve replied, dropping unceremoniously into a spare chair.

Spencer glanced up. "If there wasn't anything there the first time, there won't be anything there the tenth time, will there?"

Eve glared back. "It's entirely possible I missed something the first time."

Stella looked from one colleague to the other, then she turned in the direction of Boyd's office. Her expression told her boss everything, and wearily, he set stood and stretched, noting with distaste that almost every joint cracked.

"That's enough," Boyd said, walking into the squad room just as Eve and Spencer were setting up for an argument reminiscent of the ones the DSI had with Grace at times.

"I don't care what the situation is, Boyd, I won't be spoken down to like that," Eve replied flatly.

Spencer laughed. "I was making an observation, *Doctor*."

"I said *ENOUGH!*" Boyd roared at the top of his voice. "So far, you've all conducted yourselves in a professional manner. And now you're squabbling like children in a playground! We all know that the time limit the commissioner gave us is almost up, and we all know there isn't a damn thing we can do about it. So let's try and behave like grown ups."

Eve and Spencer looked suitably sheepish while Stella looked relieved. At the same time, the scientist and the DI began apologising.

"I'm sorry, it's the lack of nicotine," Eve started.

"I'm an idiot, I speak without thinking," Spencer said.

Stella rolled her eyes. "Oh good. Touchy-feely-ness."

Boyd looked at her. "Is that a word?"

She shrugged. "I'm French," she said, as if that explained everything.

Boyd's office phone started ringing and he frowned. "Spence, what's the time?"

"Almost eleven thirty," he replied, consulting his watch.

"I thought so," Boyd said, walking towards his office and closing the door behind him.

"I hope that isn't the commissioner," Stella stated.

Eve watched as Boyd sat behind his desk. "If the windows start shaking, we know it is."

"Boyd," the DSI said as he put the phone to his ear.

*"Hello, Boyd."*

He froze, not believing it was her. "Grace? Are you alright? We're all…."

*"I'm fine,"* Grace snapped, cutting across him. *"I thought I told you to leave me alone, not have my house watched."*

Boyd frowned. "How do you know that? You haven't been home for days."

*"Because I don't like my life being put under such scrutiny!"* Grace said, her tone sharp. *"The letter said I didn't want to see you."*

"I understood that perfectly," Boyd replied quickly.

*"I meant the team as well."*

There was a silence as Boyd tried to piece together what was happened. Grace didn't sound particularly stressed and her words didn't seem forced, but there was still *something* that wasn't quite right, a gut feeling telling Boyd to be careful.

"Are you going to tell me what this is really about, Grace?" Boyd asked.

*"What do you mean?"*

"In your letter you…." Boyd paused, certain he had heard a sharp intake of breath from Grace. Clearly, what he was about to say would set the tone for the rest of the conversation. If he let slip her lie about the commissioner, it could put Grace in jeopardy; that was, if she was in any danger to start with.

To cover his hesitation, Boyd started coughing. "In your letter," he continued after a moment, "You said that I was the problem. Has something happened recently to upset you? Something I've done?"

*"You're alive, Boyd. Isn't that enough?"* Grace said.

Boyd didn't care what the situation was, nothing warranted such a low, cutting remark. "That can easily be changed," he replied flatly, the hurt clear in his voice.

*"You wouldn't,"* Grace told him firmly. *"You're not a coward."*

"Grace, talk to me. Please. Whatever it is, I can fix it."

*"You can't change who you are, Boyd. You can change everything about your person; your hair, your face, your clothes, even your sex, but underneath, you would still be the same person,"* Grace said.

"You don't believe I could change?" Boyd asked.

*"I don't know and I don't care."*

"Would you want me to?"

*"What I want is irrelevant,"* Grace said.

Boyd sighed quietly. "Fine. I've informed the commissioner of your resignation. He seemed quite pleased, as it happens. Apparently he never liked you. Said you reminded him far too much of his grandma."

It was a long shot, not to mention something that would get him into serious trouble if he ever saw Grace again, but it was worth a try.  
*"If I was his grandma, I'd have drowned him at birth,"* Grace replied. *"Snivelling little cretin."*

"What do you want me to do with your things from your office?" Boyd asked. "Books, etc." There was silence. "Don't worry, I'm not offering to drop them round at your house, nor would I send any of the team. I'll get another officer to do it. Or I can just throw everything in the bin."

*"I'd rather you didn't do that,"* Grace replied. *"Just pack everything up and leave it in my office. I'll collect the boxes when you lot aren't around."*

"I see. Anything else?"

*"Actually, yes. I want you to give the book by Larry Moses to Eve,"* Grace said. *"Middle of the top shelf. It's right up her street. There's another book, at the end of the bottom shelf nearest my desk, for Spence and Stella to share. It's by C. Fisher and I think they'll like it. Tell them to start at the end, though. It's all about conning people and it makes more sense starting with the last chapter."*

Boyd scribbled everything down. "Anything else?" he asked.

Grace hesitated again. *"Just one thing. Another book. After all, that's all I have."*

"Go on."

*"I can't remember where it is, but it's by an author called Peter David. It's for you,"* Grace said, and she didn't elaborate on why she was leaving it to him. *"I'm trusting you to get the items to the people I mentioned. Do you think you can at least manage that?"*

Boyd finished writing, put his pen down and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can definitely manage it. Don't worry, Grace; I'll see everything gets to the relevant people. I promise."

There was a catch in Grace's voice that Boyd didn't miss. *"Good. Well, that's it, then."*

"So it seems."

*"Let's not drag this out, Boyd. It's over and let's just leave it at that."*

"If that's what you want," Boyd replied, sighing. "Take care of yourself."

*"I will,"* Grace said. *"Goodbye, Pete."*

Boyd hesitated only for a fraction before he replied. "Goodbye, Gracie."

The line went dead, but he didn't move. Boyd just cradled the receiver and counted to ten, taking deep, calming breaths. Then with a sudden flurry of movement, he put the phone down and bellowed at the top of his voice.

*"SPENCE!"*

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Spencer came running into Boyd's office looking concerned. "Yeah, boss?"

"Take Stella and go into Grace's office," Boyd ordered him. "Get the books by Larry Moses, C. Fisher and Peter David, and put them on your desk."

"What's going…?"

"MOVE!" Boyd roared.

Spencer turned and took a deep breath. "Stella, with me."

"What's going on?" Eve asked.

"No idea," Spencer replied.

Boyd came out of his office, moving slowly, as though he was in a dream, and he was carrying a tape. "Eve, set up a cassette player."

"Alright."

The DSI sat down and held the tape between the index fingers and thumbs of both hands. He paid no attention to the team working around him; all he could focus on was the conversation he had just had with Grace. Boyd knew she had laced it with carefully placed clues; it only strengthened his suspicion she was being held by someone, and that someone had been listening to their conversation.  
But Grace was smart. She had phrased everything in such a way that only someone from the team, and quite possibly only Boyd, would understand it.

"There's no Larry Moses," Spencer shouted from Grace's office, "But there's a Lannie Rose."

"Where did you find it?" Boyd asked.

"Middle of the top shelf," Stella replied.

"That's the one. Bring it out."

"There's no book by Peter David, though," Spencer said, walking into the squad room.

Boyd frowned. Perhaps it was at Grace's house. He would check later. "Never mind."

Stella put the two books in the middle of the table. "Now what?" she asked.

"Listen to this," Boyd replied, putting the tape in the player and setting it off.

As the team all leant on the desks listening carefully, the DSI got up and started pacing slowly around the tables. He had picked up a lot the first time around, but he had been involved in the conversation. Now he could inspect it from an outsider's perspective.

When the tape came to the end, Boyd pressed 'stop', sat down and looked at his colleagues. "Well?"

Eve leant back. "Well, I would guess that Grace was speaking some sort of code because you don't look like a 'Pete', Boyd, and she certainly isn't a 'Gracie'."

"Only if you like getting kicked in the balls," Spencer added, smiling slightly.

Boyd smiled back. "Precisely."

"There are no books by Larry Moses in Grace's office at all," Stella said. "Only this one by Lannie Rose, which Grace wanted you to have, Eve."

The scientist took the book, read the title, then glared at Stella and Spencer, both of whom were trying unsuccessfully to keep straight faces. "*'How to change your sex: a light-hearted look at the hardest thing you'll ever do',*" Eve said. "Is this supposed to be funny?"

"Well, not to you, but for us…," Spencer replied, breaking off so he could choke back his laughter.

Even Boyd couldn't keep the smile off his face. "I'm sure Grace didn't mean anything personal by it," he said.

Stella nodded, grinning. "Maybe the books are just clues, not meant for one specific person."

"Easy for you to say," Eve retorted. "You got…whatever you got, and I got this! 'How to tell if you're a man trapped in a woman's body'." The scientist began to read and after a while, she shook her head. "Well, according to this I should be a man."

"Alright, people, let's concentrate," Boyd said, his tone once again serious. "We're all agreed, yeah, that these are clues from Grace?" He gestured to the two books and the team nodded. "The third isn't in her office, so it's probably at her house. We'll find that later. Right now, I want to know everything there is to know about these. Let's get to work, people!"

Eve closed the book she was holding and studied the cover. "Alright, well the author of this is Lannie Rose," she started, pausing as Stella went to the board and began writing. "And it's about changing your sex. Full title is 'How to change your sex: a light-hearted look at the hardest thing you'll ever do'."

Spencer folded his arms. "Grace wanted us to find a book by Larry Moses, but there wasn't one. But we'll check the name online just to make sure we've got the right one."

Boyd nodded in approval. "What else can you tell us, Eve?"

"The book was printed in America in 2004...and that's about it." The scientist looked at Boyd. "Could Sarah…?"

"No," he said sharply. "Alright, Spence, what about the second book?"

"Grace wanted us to find an author, C. Fisher, which was supposed to be on the bottom shelf nearest her desk," the DI started. "What we found was a book by a Joseph C. Fisher, called 'The Killer Within: Public Reactions to Serial Murder'. Again, published in America, but in 1997."

"That one sounds like it belongs in Grace's office," Stella said. "But the first doesn't."

Boyd leant back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "Clearly Grace wanted us to have these items for a reason. We need to find that reason. Eve, start reading that book from back to front and vice versa. I want to know about notes in the margin, pages that look like they've been well read, any information you can give me from it."

"Forensics?" Eve asked, rising.

Boyd nodded. "On both books. Do you have Grace's fingerprints on file?"

The scientist just grinned and left. "That was a dumb question, boss," Spencer said.

Boyd shrugged. "What can you do, Spence?"

"Do you want me to start reading through this, sir?" Stella asked and the DSI nodded.

"Grace said something about conning people," Spencer said, frowning slightly.

Boyd stood slowly, feeling stiff all over for no reason he could pinpoint. "I think Grace has given us everything we need to know in that phone conversation. All we have to do is unravel the clues."

"Where are you going?" Spencer asked as Boyd walked towards the double doors.

"Out," he shouted back.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Boyd entered Grace's house through the back door; he'd found her spare set of keys hidden, of course, under a plant pot and he used them to get in. He didn't think she'd approve if he kicked the back door in as well.

Now he knew that Grace was in danger, her empty house felt completely different to Boyd. It felt menacing and eerie, and all he could hear were echoes of the profiler's voice, lingering scents of her perfume; it was like he was being toyed with and laughed at by some unseen force.  
As he moved through the house, Boyd let his fingers ghost over the surfaces and the items that identified the house as Grace's. When he found the books, he was surprised they only took up one set of shelves. Then again, Grace spent a lot of time at the office; it stood to reason that most of her books would be *there*.

Boyd crouched down and scanned the writing, looking for Peter David. But when he found nothing, he began to worry. Was Peter David the name of her attacker? Pulling out his phone, he dialled the office number.

*"Detective Inspector Jordan."*

"Spence, run a check on a Peter David, or David Peter, or anything similar," Boyd ordered.

*"Will do, boss. Find anything interesting yet?"* Spencer asked.

"No," Boyd replied and ended the call.

He wandered through the rest of the house, his mind wandering to places it shouldn't have been going, but under the circumstances, he couldn't help it. The places made of regrets and 'what ifs' and worst case scenarios.

The last room in the house Boyd had to check was Grace's bedroom. With slow, deliberate movements, he walked into the room, his eyes scanning everywhere and finally resting on Grace's bedside cabinet. A book.

Boyd sat on the edge of Grace's bed and picked the tome up. "Peter David," he said, reading the author. With his free hand, he pulled his phone out. "I've found Peter David, Spence. It's another book. Go back to whatever you were doing."

Boyd turned the book over and read the back, then studied the cover. He would never have put Grace down as a trekkie…or a Trekker. Whatever the geeks called themselves nowadays.

*'Not geeks, sci-fi buffs,'* Boyd silently corrected himself.

"*'Imzadi'*," he said out loud, reading the title.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Boyd settled himself into a more comfortable position on Grace's bed and started to read.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Boyd awoke with a start, his eyes snapping open and a sense of panic rising in him. He moved quickly, making him keenly aware of a very stiff neck before he fell to the floor.

For a moment, Boyd just stayed there, wondering when he was going to wake up from the dream. When nothing happened, he figured he was waiting for a legion of people to appear and start laughing at him. Instinctively, he checked he was still clothed. He was.

Painfully, and groaning as he did, Boyd pushed himself into a sitting position, remembering instantly where he was. Grace's house. Grace's bedroom. And he must have fallen asleep on Grace's bed.

Something was poking him in the leg. Frowning, Boyd wondered what it could be. Feeling around, he pulled a book out. Grace's book. *Imzadi*. Luckily, it hadn't been damaged.

He had started reading it last night and after skipping over much of the sci-fi stuff, Boyd had discovered the basic meaning of the story. It was about love, about sharing a connection with another soul, and how that person was 'Imzadi'. He had sat and finished the book, finally falling asleep trying to work out why Grace had wanted him to read it.

Boyd stood up and stretched, wincing at the noise his body made as his joints complained about the uncomfortable position in which they had been forced to sleep in. He looked at his watch first and wished he hadn't. Swearing, Boyd pulled his phone out, expecting to have half a dozen text messages and a few dozen missed calls, all from people wanting to know where he was.

Nothing.

Boyd frowned and checked his battery: full. Either no one cared, which wouldn't surprise him, or they knew where he would be, which wouldn't surprise him either. What did surprise him was the fact that no one had tried to steal anything; he'd left the house unlocked and as far as he knew, the back door was still open. Typical.

Boyd didn't call anybody; he just trudged downstairs, rummaging through his pockets until he found his car keys. And as he stepped outside, it started raining.

"Perfect," Boyd muttered, putting the book until his jacket so it didn't get wet. His day was not getting off to a good start.

Not only was he still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, but he was as stiff as a board from sleeping sat up. His breath could probably knock anyone unconscious from fifty paces away, and he was in desperate need of a shower and a shave. Lack of coffee was making Boyd cranky; lack of food was having the same affect. The fact Grace was missing and they had no clues to what had happened to her - expect for cryptic book hints - was pissing him off. And to top everything off, the book she had left specifically for Boyd was all about soul mates and true love, and he had no idea why.

Well, that part wasn't strictly true. An idea was starting to form around the edges of Boyd's caffeine-food-and-comfy-bed-sleep deprived brain; something to do with something Sarah had said. She had hinted - no, blurted it outright - that she knew something was going on between Boyd and Grace, like a relationship-affair type thing, Boyd guessed. How had Sarah reached that conclusion? As far as Boyd knew, he had never had those kinds of feelings for Grace, and therefore couldn't be unknowingly showing something he didn't feel…could he?  
Then again, if Grace had certain feelings for Boyd - pretty much confirmed by the book he had just read - then Sarah could have noticed and assumed Boyd felt the same why. But the policeman couldn't work out *why* Sarah would have assumed that.

Boyd flirted with Grace, he knew that. And he was extremely protective of her, perhaps more so than anyone else on the team. And he enjoyed those rare occasions when they would share a bottle of wine in either his or Grace's office. When she would phone him up even though they were only across the hall from each other. Boyd also smiled more when Grace was around; there was something infectious about *her* smile, and he realised he was missing that. The way her lips curved and the way the action touched her eyes….

A car horn brought Boyd back to reality, reminding him forcefully that he was still driving and that his full attention should be on the road. Was it possible that he felt something more for Grace than what he had realised…or that he was willing to admit? Boyd had always assumed that they were friends; good friends, perhaps even best friends. He had always assumed it was because they were a similar age and neither had lives outside of their job, really.

Boyd was adult enough, in that moment, to understand his assumptions may have been just that; hypotheses used to cover up the truth. But it was a truth he had only just realised.

He pulled up into the car park, wondering if he still had a spare shirt in his office and whether Spencer had some deodorant he could borrow. Boyd glanced at his watch again; it was quarter to ten. He expected the team to be hard at work already; there would be hell to pay if they weren't.

Boyd felt as though he was dragging his feet as he made his way to the cold case offices. He hadn't realised how tired he was until he started the long trek from his car to his desk. His mind just wouldn't stop at all and he wished, for one second, that it would. The constant noise of his thoughts was starting to drive him mad.

Boyd hesitated outside the double doors, composing himself before he entered the workplace. But as he walked into the squad room, he stopped again and before he could speak, Spencer came up to him.

"Morning, boss."

"You look like hell," Boyd replied, glancing at both Stella and Eve's fatigued faces.

Spencer smiled half-heartedly. "You don't look so good yourself."

"Are you all wearing the same clothes as yesterday?" Boyd asked and received tentative nods in reply. "Have you been home at all?"

"We went out for breakfast, sir," Stella offered. "But only for half an hour."

Eve nodded in agreement. "We've been busy like bees, Boyd."

The DSI was aware he was staring, but he didn't care. He felt pride surging through him again at the dedication of his team, but he also felt like yelling, though he wasn't sure why. Perhaps because it was the normal thing he did, and Boyd was desperate for things to be back to normal.  
But he didn't shout, he just nodded. "Good."

"Did you find out why Grace mentioned that other book, sir?" Stella asked.

Boyd nodded. "I'm certain she's been kidnapped. That's basically what the book was about, a woman who gets kidnapped and then rescued by the hero."

Eve smiled. "Are you the hero, Boyd?"

"I'm not dashing enough."

"What's the title of the book?" Spencer asked. "Just so I can put it on the board. You never know, it might help."

"Imzadi, by Peter David," Boyd said, pulling the book out from under his coat to read the cover.

Eve stared at him. "Star Trek?"

The DSI groaned. "Don't tell me you're a trekkie."

"Trekker," the scientist corrected him.

"Geek," Stella murmured.

"I heard that," Eve said, but the DC just shrugged. "Star Trek happens to be good television, Boyd. It's also the only decent thing on at one and two o'clock in the morning."

Spencer shook his head. "Insomniac."

"Yes, it's a Star Trek book," Boyd said. "Have you read it?"

Eve nodded. "It's very good." She then looked at Boyd as though she was seeing him for the first time. "Grace left it to you?"

"Yes."

"Has it been well read?"

Boyd looked at the scientist. "Eve, would you come into my office please?" he asked, making everyone else in the room immediately wary.

"Alright," she replied.

Boyd let her enter his office first and then shut the door. "Have a seat," he said, gesturing to a chair. "From the expression on your face, you've come to a conclusion that links Grace, me and this book together." He held up *Imzadi.* "You might be right, you might be wrong, but I'd appreciate it if you kept your thoughts to yourself on this subject, okay?"

Eve smiled uneasily and nodded. "I was going to anyway. But, Boyd, if Grace really believes in what that book suggests, be careful. Don't hurt her."

"I don't think I care for your tone, Doctor," he said flatly.

But Eve wasn't fazed now; she held her ground. "I don't care, Boyd. I know you would never intentionally hurt Grace, but it's the unintentional that worries me. If you think you love her, be sure before you even think of saying anything to her."

Boyd hesitated, once again torn between yelling for the normality of it and thanking his colleague. "I will," he promised eventually, his tone sincere.

"Good. Was that all?" Eve asked and he nodded. "I think Spence wants to talk to you."

"I'll be out in a minute," Boyd replied, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes.

Normal. After only a short amount of time, he was forgetting what 'normal' felt like; what it was like to have Grace sharing her thoughts with him or berating him for shouting unnecessarily. It was true; you don't know what you've got until it's gone.

Sighing, Boyd stood and walked towards the squad room, stopping in the doorway to his office. Spencer was in front of him, watching him.  
"You've got something?" Boyd asked quietly.

Spencer nodded. "Grace is a genius."

Boyd stared at the younger man before smiling. "Tell me something I don't know."

"We're geniuses because we figured her clues out," Spencer replied, grinning.

"You're sure?"

Spencer nodded. "We think so. We hope so. It'll damned frustrating to think we stayed up all night working on it only for it to mean nothing."

Boyd walked towards the desks. "So what have we got?"

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

"Eve and Stella read the books Grace left us," Spencer started to explain, "While I pulled up all the records for every case she's ever worked on."

Boyd looked at him. "Why did you do that?"

"It seemed like a logical place to start, sir."

Boyd smiled and nodded. "It was. Go on."

"The books themselves didn't seem to give us any clues at all," Stella took over. "So then we started to cross-reference any names mentioned in the books with names mentioned in the cases Grace has worked on. Nothing."

"We then listened to the phone conversation again," Eve said. "And everything we needed to know was in there. Grace really is a clever lady."

"Tell me something I don't know," Boyd murmured.

"Whoever was in that room with her, and we're certain she had company while she was making that phone call, wouldn't have had a clue what Grace was talking about," Spencer continued.

"Unless they're as smart as Grace," Eve added.

"But they wouldn't have known she was sending a message," Stella finished.

Boyd nodded his agreement. "So what have you found out?"

Spencer leant across to the cassette player and switched it on. He stopped it again after the first sentence Grace had spoken. "We've checked, double checked, triple checked and then checked again," the DI said. "There is no book in Grace's office by an author Larry Moses. Only this book by Lannie Rose."

"Grace changed the name," Boyd stated.

Spencer nodded. "That's what we think. We found nothing relating to the publisher or the year the book was brought it. Ironically, the answer to the first clue was staring us in the face. Grace wanted to point us in the direction of people who had undergone a change in sex."

"We checked all of the cases Grace has ever worked on and we found twenty nine cases that specifically involved a transsexual, or a person who wanted to change their sex but hadn't," Stella continued.

Boyd paused sipping his coffee. "Twenty nine?" he repeated in surprise, and Stella nodded. "Over how long?"

Stella glanced at her notes. "Twenty five years."

"Only Grace could manage a record like that," Eve said, smiling.

"Anyway, once we'd worked that out, we moved on to the next clue," Spencer told Boyd. He played another part of the taped conversation with Grace. "Again, the author's name wasn't quite right, but at least this was close."

Stella stood near the board. "Joseph C. Fisher. We read the book from back to front, literally, and we didn't find anything that looked like a clue."

"So we decided to look at it from a different angle," Eve said. "In science, sometimes the simplest explanation is the one that works. It was clear that Grace wanted us to start with the last chapter, but since there was nothing in it, we wondered if it was a play on words."

Boyd took another drink. "And?"

"We checked all name combinations for Last, Fisher, Joseph and 'C'," Spencer replied, "Against the list of individuals mentioned in Grace's cases."

"All of them?" Boyd asked.

Spencer nodded. "Starting with the sex change cases."

"And?"

"Nothing."

"Well, not nothing," Eve said. "We found seven cases involving a person with a last name of…well, Last."

Boyd sat back in his chair. "Go on."

"Three were police officers that Grace worked with," Stella replied. "Two were nurses, one a psychologist, and, ironically, the last one we found was someone wanted a sex change and Grace helped to get them convicted."

"For what?" Boyd asked.

"Murder."

"So what's his name?"

Eve smiled. "That's what we thought as well because statistically speaking, more men change their sex than women, and because in Grace's first clue, the book is written by a woman who used to be a man. But we were wrong."

"Grace changed the author's name on purpose," Spencer explained. "From a woman to a man."

Boyd gave a small smile of pride. "Alright. What's her name?"

"Joanne Last," Stella supplied. "Again, Grace gave us a clue when she omitted the author's first name from the second book clue. She really is intelligent."

"Don't tell her that or we'll never hear the end of it," Boyd muttered. "What about the 'conning' angle? Grace said that the second book was all about conning people. Do you know what she meant?"

"We're not sure about that, boss," Spencer admitted. "But we've been pulling all the files on the Joanne Last case. We've only got the basics so far, but from what I understand, it was messy."

"Was it a police case?" Boyd asked, and the DI nodded. "Who was the investigating officer?"

The three of them suddenly fell silent and looked at each other before Eve pushed the case file across the desk. "Why don't you read that to start with, Boyd?" she suggested. "All the evidence collected from the case and any other paperwork pertaining to it is being sent over as we speak. As soon as it gets here, we'll get to work on it. But I think you should read that first."

The undertone in the scientist's voice was obvious even to Boyd. He looked at the file with dark eyes, wondering which ghost from the past he was going to find inside. "I'll be in my office."

"What was that all about?" Spencer demanded to know when the three of them were alone.

Eve just glared at him. "If I thought you'd understand, I'd tell you."

"He's worried about Grace," Stella said. "More than the rest of us."

"I know that," Spencer replied. "So?" Suddenly he looked back at Eve. "Does this have anything to do with the other book Grace mentioned?"

"Imzadi," Stella supplied.

"For now, Spence, just leave it," Eve said. "What you don't know isn't going to hurt you or hinder this investigation. I'll keep an eye on Boyd."

"Are you certain you know what you think you know?" Spencer asked.

Eve shook her head. "No, but only time will tell if I'm right or not."

"Got some boxes for you," a guy called from the double doors. "Where d'you want it?"

"Paperwork there," Spencer replied, leaning back in his chair and pointing to the spare desks. "Forensics and other evidence with her." He pointed to Eve.

The scientist rose and gestured towards the lab. "Shall we?"

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

Grace could hear someone moving about in the room and she deliberately kept her eyes shut, feigning sleep. She knew it was a ploy that would only work for so long; her captor wasn't that stupid, unfortunately. Stupid enough for Grace to get a message through to the team; at least she hoped they had worked it out by now.

"Rise and shine, Dr Foley, it's another beautiful day," a voice said cheerfully. "Well, not for you, but who cares what you want?"

Sighing inwardly, Grace's eyes fluttered open. "Are you going to tell me why you're doing this?"

Sharp grey eyes stared back. "Why would I want to do that?" Joanne Last replied. "I've be analysed once by you and that was more than enough."

"Don't blame me for what you are," Grace snapped, then she cried out in pain as Joanne punched her.

"Who else should I blame? You gave them the report that told them everything they needed to know, apparently."

Grace stared back defiantly. Joanne didn't look much different in the twenty years it had been since the profiler last saw her. Grace shivered at the memory, for more than one reason. She had been called in to assist with a case; a woman and a man had been brutally murdered, their bodies viciously mutilated after death, and the police had one suspect. Joanne Last.

It never occurred to Grace that they weren't even looking for anyone else, although it should have done. She should have realised that they just wanted a result, no matter what. Grace should have known the moment she accepted the case and read the notes, but she was blinded by certain factors.

The first time Grace saw Joanne, she was mildly surprised. The woman was relatively tall, standing roughly five foot nine inches, with a build that had clearly been achieved by doing nothing else but pumping weights for several hours a day. Joanne's hair was short and brown, and her features were sharp. But it was her eyes that struck Grace the most; they were cold and grey, reminding the profiler of a knife blade or a gun....

*"Hello, Joanne. My name is Grace Foley," she said, sitting down.

Joanne didn't answer.

"I know you're probably tired of being asked so many questions, but it's necessary to find out if you really did murder those people or not."

"I don't know what you're talking about, or who you think you're talking to," the woman replied in a forced-deep voice.

Grace just blinked. "I thought I was talking to Joanne Last, 32 years old, born and raised in Manchester…."

"No such person here."

"Oh," Grace replied, nodding. "Alright, how about a Jo Last?"

Joanne's thin lips curled into a sneer. "So you're the psychologist. This should be interesting."*

Grace sucked in a deep breath as she was brought back to the present by a sharp pain in her side. She looked down to see Joanne nicking her flesh.

"You drifted," she said casually.

Grace grimaced. "It won't happen again."

"Don't worry," Joanne replied. "You'll be here for a long time, so the occasional lapse in concentration on your part won't make any difference to me."

Grace's eyes grew wide in fear. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that your friends have no idea where you are or what's happened to you, and the police are so dumb anyway that even if you handed them the answer on a silver plate, they still couldn't work it out."

"What do you want from me?" Grace demanded to know again.

Joanne held a knife up to the light, inspecting it. "I want revenge, Dr Foley. Quite simple really."

"I wasn't solely responsible for you being found guilty."

"Yes, you were," Joanne snapped. "Because of you, I spent sixteen years in prison, being abused and mutilated."

Grace frowned. "I don't understand…." She broke off as Joanne ripped the shirt she was wearing off, exposing a scarred and flat chest. "Oh my God," the profiler murmured, wanting to avert her eyes but unable to.

"When the inmates found out that I wanted to rid myself of this loathsome body - a process that you interrupted - they took it upon themselves to help," Joanne said bitterly. "Because of you, I've had to spend sixteen extra years…no, wait. I've got to spend the rest of my *life* trapped in this form because when I got out of prison, I found everything had changed and that I'm no longer eligible for the operation!" She stopped, breathless.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise…," Grace started.

"What?" Joanne interrupted. "That I'd be treated this way? That my abuse started *before* I went to prison? That I was raped in that police cell by your colleagues?"

This time Grace couldn't reply. She felt sick to her stomach, and even though the reason for the anguish was long since dead, the fact that he had been capable of such…atrocities made her nauseous. Grace had only seen one side of him, the side that he wanted her to see…the side *she* wanted to see.

And now, once again, Grace was going to pay for his mistakes.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

Boyd closed the file and his eyes at the same time, thankful for Eve's warning. No wonder the team had reacted the way they had when he asked about who was in charge of the investigation; Harry Taylor's name was not one he was expecting to read. As Boyd understood it, Taylor had died in a car crash in the eighties, and he and Grace had never worked together again. Obviously, Boyd thought somewhat bitterly, he was wrong.

Grace had never told him what went on between her and Taylor, no details, anyway. But Boyd knew the man had hurt her badly, a crime he himself had been guilty of more times than he'd like to count.

Leaning back in his chair, Boyd took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He sat up straight and opened the file again, praying that Taylor's boorishness hadn't spilt over in this case as well. It was bad enough with the Tony Greene case; the anguish Grace had experienced almost broke Boyd's heart, especially because he didn't understand what was going on. She wouldn't talk to him and he could do was yell in return.  
Deciding he needed to be with the rest of the team, Boyd stood and walked into the squad room, the file open in his hands. He peered over his glasses at the board. "Very nice, Spence."

The evidence board now had the basics of the case on it, which matched the clues Grace had given them. "Thanks, boss," Spencer replied with a grin.

Boyd walked over to the board, dropping the file on a desk, and folded his arms. "So, Joanne Last, born in Manchester, 1950, so aged 32 at the time of her arrest in 1982." He paused. "Same age as me and Grace," he murmured before focussing back at the board. "So now she would be 54. Arrested for double murder. The victims were Tim Castle and his girlfriend, Betty Mason. The bodies were badly mutilated after death." Boyd took his glasses off and held them loosely in one hand. "Do we know why she murdered those two?"

Stella rummaged around her desk quickly. "The police thought that Joanne was fixated with Betty. They think that Joanne had asked her out and Betty had refused."

"That sounds…simple enough," Boyd said thoughtfully. "Almost too simple."

"She was convicted a year after she was arrested and sentenced to life in prison," Spencer continued. "Joanne served sixteen years and was released in 1999 due to…."

Boyd turned. "Don't tell me: good behaviour."

"Got it in one."

"That phrase should be banned." He looked back at the board. "Do we know what she's been doing for the past seven years?" he asked.

"Other than planning revenge on Grace?" Stella said, then looked up in shock. "Sorry."

But Boyd smiled. "Maybe it's that simple."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Spencer added.

Eve came through the double doors sighing. "Don't ask me, Boyd," she said quickly, holding one hand up. "I'm working as quickly as I can, but there are five boxes of evidence and only one of me. I haven't stopped for a cigarette break yet today, and I'm now off for something from the vending machine. Okay?"

Boyd just nodded. "Okay. Why don't you go through my office? It'll be quicker."

"Sucking up won't make me go any faster," Eve called back.

"Worth a try," Boyd said to Stella and Spencer, shrugging.

Outside, Eve put her money into the vending machine, waited a few seconds, then gave it a push. "Oh, come on," she grumbled, kicking it.  
The vending machine remained impassive, holding onto both Eve's money and much needed snack food. Yelling in frustration, the scientist grabbed the top of the machine and started to rock it.

"Try side to side," a voice said, and Eve turned to see an officer smiling at her.

She smiled back. "Thanks." She rocked the machine from side to side a couple of times and was rewarded with two packets of crisps, three bars of chocolate and her money back. "I'll have to remember that."

"Any time."

Eve collected her goodies and looked at the officer properly. He was a DC and it looked like he was on an errand. "Can I help you?" she asked.

The DC nodded. "I've got a package for DSI Boyd. Do you know where I can find him?"

"Through there," Eve said, pointing towards the office. "I'm heading back that way. Do you want me to take it?"

"Sure, thanks."

"Least I can do." She looked at her goodies. "Crisps or chocolate?"

The DC grinned and handed her the package. "Neither, thanks. I'm on a diet."

"Please don't swear at me," Eve replied, taking the box in one hand.

The DC's grin widened as he waved and walked away. The scientist smiled to herself and headed into Boyd's office, but stopped halfway across the room, swearing. Liquid was running down her hand and she cursed herself for spilling her drink.

Cold washed over Eve as she realised she didn't get a drink, and that the only thing which could be leaking was the package. Glancing hesitantly to her left hand, her stomach contracted at what she saw.

"BOYD!" Eve shouted at the top of her voice.

Boyd came running in, Spencer close behind him. "Wha-?" The DSI broke off as he saw the problem. "Spence, get a bag." He walked forward and took Eve's goodies from her.

"Thanks," she murmured, her gaze fixed on her bloodied left hand.

"Here," Spencer said, thrusting an evidence bag forward.

"Thanks," Eve repeated, putting the sopping package gingerly in. Then she took hold of the bag with her right hand. "I'd better get this to the lab."

Silently, the scientist walked through the squad room, unaware Boyd was following her until he opened the double doors for her. He pulled a white coat on and tagged behind Eve as she went straight to a work surface. Boyd put her snacks near the computer and sat on a stool.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

Eve finally looked up and gave him a wan smile. "Just a bit of a shock, that's all."

Boyd nodded in understanding and folded his arms across his chest. "What happened?"

"I was abusing the vending machine because it took my money and wouldn't give me what I wanted when a DC came up and told me how to beat it," Eve replied. "He said he had a package for you, and I offered to take it. It started…leaking when I got into your office."

"Did he look suspicious, this DC?" Boyd asked.

"He was nice to me. Does that count?" Eve responded, then shook her head. "I've seen him around before. He works here. No leads there."

Boyd nodded. "And the package?"

Eve lowered her head, and Boyd noticed her stance changed slightly as she went to work. "Hand-written name, no address so it must have been hand delivered," she told him as she inspected the package. "Standard brown paper wrapping. Sellotape used, might get some DNA from that, but with the blood…it could be difficult."

Carefully, Eve opened the paper and set it to one side. "Standard cardboard box," she continued. "I'll check for fingerprints, but I wouldn't hold your breath."

"I won't," Boyd said, smiling.

Then Eve opened the box and her face drained of all colour. "Oh my God."

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

As soon as Eve had finished her thorough examination of the contents of the box, and washed her hands, Boyd wordlessly passed the scientist her packet of cigarettes and lighter. As she lit up and thankfully inhaled, Boyd used the lab phone to call Spencer. Minutes later, the DI and Stella appeared, their faces grim as they dressed themselves in white coats.

No word was spoken nor a sound uttered at the team gathered around the table, waiting for Eve to finish her cigarette. Spencer was doing a poor job at containing his agitation, but seeing how calm Boyd was made him try harder to be patient. Stella looked terrified, but again took her strength from her commanding officer.

"Right," Eve started, turning and walking towards them. "As you know, a package was hand-delivered for Boyd about one hour ago. I took the parcel off the DC, but it started bleeding before I could give it to Boyd."

"Good job really," Spencer said.

"Well it was. Less contamination," Eve agreed. "So I brought it straight here. Now I'm still waiting back for results on some partial prints I found, but I can give you a basic forensic report on the box and its contents. The psychology of it, however, is up to you."

Boyd nodded. "Go on." He already knew what the scientist was going to tell them; he hadn't left the lab at all while Eve worked on the package. He had just sat there, as still and quiet as a statue, unconsciously holding his breath.

"The name on the package was handwritten, which doesn't help unless we have something to compare it against," Eve started to explain. "The paper used to wrap the parcel is standard brown paper that can be bought at any Post Office…."

"That narrows it down a lot," Spencer muttered. "Not many of them left."

"…Or stationery shop."

"Bigger problem."

Eve nodded. "I didn't get anything from the paper, but I did get a partial print from the sellotape used to seal the package. It's Grace's."

"Shit," Stella swore.

"I also got two more prints from the box itself," the scientist continued. "They're *not* Grace's, so I'm running them through the computer now."

"What about Joanne Last?" Stella asked.

"I wanted to do this by the book," Eve replied. "If the computer comes up with Joanne Last as an independent match, all the better for us."

Spencer smiled. "Good thinking."

Eve smiled back. "Now for the contents of the box." She took a deep breath. "The reason for the blood leaking out was this." She held up a tray.

"Oh my God," Stella murmured, her face going pale.

Spencer stared. "Shit. Is that…?"

"It is exactly one pound of flesh," Eve supplied. "And it was removed from something live not long before it was delivered."

Spencer shifted his gaze to the scientist. "Is it…I mean, can you tell if…?"

"It didn't come from Grace," Boyd said quietly, speaking for only the second time since the team entered the lab.

The two younger officers breathed a sigh of relief. "Then who or what did it come from?" Stella asked.

"I think it's a dog," Eve replied, "But I'm not sure."

Spencer looked at Boyd. "Do you want us to check for suspicious dog deaths with a mile radius of the building, boss?"

"Less than half a mile," the scientist answered first. "There's no way this flesh was cut away and package any further away. It would have leaked long before it reached us."

"Do it," Boyd confirmed.

"There isn't much else I can tell you, I'm afraid," Eve said. "The flesh wasn't removed by a professional, like a butcher or a surgeon. It was done in an amateur way, with a lot of hacking. Wherever this came from, there's bound to be a lot of blood."

"So we're still no nearer to finding Grace?" Spencer asked, his tone frustrated.

Boyd shook his head. "But if the package was hand delivered, then Grace's kidnapper can't live too far away. I think we can assume, therefore, that Grace is close, yeah? So I want any incident reports for the past two weeks of an area ten miles in every direction from this building, to start with."

Stella looked astonished. "All incident reports, sir?"

"Every single one," Boyd said slowly. "And I want to know where Joanna Last is right now! Let's get to work, people! Eve…."

"I'll let you know as soon as the results come through for those prints, Boyd, but you know how long the machine can take," the scientist replied.

Boyd nodded. "As soon as you know something!" he called back as he left the lab.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

The squad room was quiet as Spencer and Stella worked tirelessly collating all the incident reports while Boyd sat in his office staring as the case notes so far. Something was nagging him, and he wasn't sure what it was. Standing, he rounded his desk and pushed his door to quietly, being careful not to disturb his junior officers. He put the recording of his conversation with Grace into the cassette player and sat on the couch listening to it.

When it got to the end, he rewound it and played it again. For half an hour, Boyd did nothing but listen to himself talking to Grace. Then, making sure no one was looking, he went to his shelves and reached to the top, taking down a file. Sitting back behind his desk, he opened it.  
Grace's picture, taken years ago, stared back at him, as did her impressive record. But Boyd wasn't interested in reading the words; he focussed on those sharp blue eyes, noticing the corners of her mouth that were ready to turn upwards in that smile that always made his heart light.  
Was he Imzadi to her? Was she that impossibly perfect soul mate to him? Boyd was still debating the issue with himself, knowing that the answer would only come if he ever saw Grace again.

*'No,'* he thought firmly. 'When *I see her again.'*

The phone rang and he reached across his desk to pick the receiver up, his eyes never leaving Grace's face. "Boyd," he answered.

*"Finally. I thought you were going to try and ignore me forever."*

Boyd's finger froze in the act of tracing a line over Grace's cheek. "What do you want?" he asked flatly.

*"To talk to you,"* Sarah replied.

"I don't want to talk to you. I thought that was obvious."

*"You can't ignore me forever, Boyd,"* she snapped.

"I thought I was doing a good job so far."

Sarah ignored him and tried a different tact. *"Any news about Grace?"*

Boyd's hand covered Grace's face, as though trying to protect her. "Why do you ask? You don't care."

*"I care about you and she's important to you."*

"I don't want or need you to care about me," Boyd said dully.

*"Because you have her, is that it?"* Sarah asked heatedly. *"Who were you trying to fool, Boyd, when you took up with me?"*

"Nobody."

*"I don't believe you. You deceived me, Boyd. I don't know what I ever saw in you!"*

"Then stop phoning me!" Boyd shouted and slammed the phone down.

He was trembling with pent up anger, directed towards Sarah, and frustration because they were no closer to finding Grace.

*'It's all about conning people.'*

Boyd's head snapped up and his gaze fixed onto the cassette player. The tape had been playing in the background while he had been talking to Sarah, and something had just started to click into place. He rounded his desk and rewound the cassette.

*'You're alive, Boyd. Isn't that enough?'*

He winced. Part of him wondered if Grace actually meant what she had said; it wouldn't be the first time their words had drawn blood. Their arguments had grown more tense and vicious; Boyd had begun to think he really was the problem.

*'You're alive, Boyd. Isn't that enough?'*

He shook his head. He had to concentrate on the task in hand, not wallow in self-pity. Taking a deep breath, Boyd fast-forwarded the tape, then hit the play button.

*'…though. It's all about conning people….'*

Boyd stopped the tape. He felt as though a piece of the puzzle had been handed to him during his conversation with Sarah; all he had to do now was put it in place.

*'You're alive, Boyd. Isn't that enough?'*

A sentiment Sarah seemed to share. In fact, a sentiment shared by all the women who had been in Boyd's life.

*'You're alive, Boyd. Isn't that enough?'*

If only that sentence could mean something different, but no matter how many times Boyd turned and twisted it in his head, it still came out sounding sharp and harsh, and worst, truthful; like the only solution was his death.

*'You're alive, Boyd. Isn't that enough?'*

He hung his head, his eyes filling with hot tears. Was it only Grace who could do this to him? He tried to remember the last time he had cried. Had he shed a tear when Mel was taken from them? Boyd wasn't sure.

Roughly, he wiped his eyes and focussed on the puzzle.

*'…though. It's all about conning people….'*

Where did that fit?

*'You deceived me, Boyd.'*

Deception.

Con.

'You deceived me, Boyd.'

*'…though. It's all about conning people….'*

Striding to his desk, Boyd picked up the case file on Joanne Last, re-reading the name of the police officer in charge of the investigation. Harry Taylor. Suddenly, Grace's clue made perfect sense.

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

"No."

"But, sir," Boyd started to protest.

The commissioner held his hand up. "I said no. I will not give you authorisation to start an investigation that could very well ruin the reputation of a good police officer, one who has been dead for a number of years. So leave his memory alone, Boyd."

Boyd tried to remain calm. "Grace obviously wanted us to look into other cases Harry Taylor spear-headed, sir. There has to be a reason for that."

"Boyd, I've already given you unlimited time to solve this case involving Grace, whilst suspending all other work that might have come your way," the commissioner replied. "I understand how you feel, I really do. Dr Foley is a very unique and special woman, and very important to your team. But you'll have to find her without delving into Harry Taylor's life. I'm sorry."

"That's your final word, sir?" the DSI asked.

"It is. Now get out, Boyd. You've got a profiler to find."

"Yes, sir," Boyd ground out, turning and striding out of the room, trying very hard not to slam the door.

"Not good news I take it?" Spencer asked as the doors to the squad room banged open.

"No," Boyd replied shortly, walking into his office and dropping onto the couch. When his phone rang, he counted to five before leaning across and pressing the speaker phone button. "Boyd."

*"Cross reference with Harry Taylor's cases only in the interest of finding a connection with Joanne Last,"* the commissioner said without preamble. *"I do not want you to deliberately set about sabotaging Taylor's reputation, understood?"*

"Yes, sir."

*"But if you happen to find a different case that relates solidly to the Joanne Last case, and there's similar discrepancies, as with the Last and Tony Greene cases, then an investigation into Taylor's conduct may be sanctioned, but to be carried out by someone impartial."*

"Impartial, sir?" Boyd repeated, not being able to help himself.

*"Get to work, Boyd. And I never told you anything, understood?"* the commissioner added, somewhat unnecessarily.

"Understood, sir." Boyd put the phone down and sighed in relief. "Stella!"

"Yes, sir?" the DC said, appearing in the doorway.

"Cross reference all of Harry Taylor's cases with the Joanne Last case. Look for any common factors."

Stella nodded. "Yes, sir."

Suddenly Boyd wasn't sure he wanted to continue down that particular path. True, his reasons for wanting to destroy Taylor were hypocritical and selfish; everything Taylor had done in the name of getting a result, Boyd was guilty of as well. But Boyd had convinced himself there was a difference between him and Taylor; the difference was Grace. Boyd was true of cheating on his wife as well, but he would never wrong Grace in such a way. It was a small distinction, but it made him feel better.

His phone rang again and sighing, he leant over to answer it. "Boyd." He wasn't worried about Sarah calling; he'd had her number, and any other incoming calls from America, barred.

*"It's the desk sergeant, sir,"* a voice said. *"You wanted to know about suspicious animal deaths?"*

"That's right."

*"Two beat PCs have just found the mutilated remains of a dog,"* the sergeant told him. *"They've cordoned the area off and not touched anything."*

Boyd stood up and grabbed a pen. "Where?" he asked, and scribbled down the address. "Thank you, Sergeant." Boyd put the phone down, then dialled an extension. "Eve, grab your things. We've got a dog body for you to examine."

*"Wonderful. Do I get a driver as well?"* she asked.

"That would be the dog's bollocks for you, Doctor, wouldn't it?" Boyd replied.

*"Boyd,"* Eve complained.

"Sorry, no driver. We're all busy."

*"Fine. I'll let you know if it matches what was sent to us."*

"Thanks." Boyd put the phone down again and sat back on the couch. Finally, he felt they were making progress.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

"Do you know why I'm doing this, Dr Foley?" Joanne asked one day.

"Do I care?" Grace retorted.

"Exactly. You don't care about anything except yourself which is why you're here."

"No, I'm here because you're a sick bitch."

Joanne slapped Grace hard across the face, the sound echoing around the room. "No, you're here because you knew I was innocent. I never murdered anyone, yet your report said otherwise, all because of Harry Taylor."

"That's not true!" Grace exclaimed, ignoring the pain in her cheek.

"You're wrong, Dr Foley," Joanne replied. "It's the truth alright, you just don't want to admit it." She shook her head. "I was innocent and I suffered because of you and him!"

"I never had any doubts over your guilt," Grace said with conviction.

"Not me. Joanne. *I* didn't kill anybody."

Grace stared, unable to speak. In that moment she realised how much trouble she was in. Not only was she dealing with someone hell-bent on revenge, but a person with dual personalities. Grace could see it clearly; the years Jo had been forced to stay in a form she detested had split her personality into the aggressive female and submissive male.

"Perhaps you're right," Grace said eventually. "But there's no way to separate the two of you."

Joanne's face flushed red. "You're wrong! There is a way, there *was* a way, but it was stolen from me! Now we're going to make you suffer and then you're going to set the record straight."

Grace stared at her. "My conclusions on your state of mind, and therefore your guilt, were carried out in a professional manner. It had nothing to do with Harry Taylor!"

"Maybe, maybe not," Joanne said in a quiet voice. "You know, he used to brag about how he bagged you. About how he strung you along so easily, and then dropped you just as quickly." She leant in. "He used to murmur all these things to me while he was trying to teach me the 'error of my ways'."

"You're lying!" Grace snapped, recoiling in horror.

"You'll never know either way, will you? But one thing is definitely true; thanks to your 'professional conclusions', Taylor forced a confession from me. And as I understand it, that wasn't the first time it had happened. There were whispers of something similar happening; an innocent individual convicted of murder because it was convenient.

"But there are better ways to destroy a person than to try and take their work and reputation away from them," Joanne continued. "First, you break their spirit. And that, my dear Dr Foley, is exactly what I'm going to do to you. So if you're ready, we'll begin."

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

Any progress Boyd felt the case was making soon disintegrated into nothingness again. The body of the dog matched the pound of flesh that had been sent to him, and that was it. There was no other evidence to be found; no shred of human DNA on the dog, no leads whatsoever.  
The mood in the office was bleak, the team's patience wearing thin, and their professionalism for the case was beginning so show serious signs of strain. Boyd reached for his bottle of scotch and a glass, not looking at the time and not caring. The only lead they had for finding Grace had been a dead end, and they were running out of time.

Even investigating - unofficially, of course - Harry Taylor hadn't turned anything up, and for the first time in his life, Boyd was ready for giving up because carrying on fighting was just too bloody hard.

There was a quiet knock on his door and he didn't even bother attempting to hide his drink before calling, "Come in!"

Stella appeared and Boyd thought he saw a light of hope in her eyes. "We might have something on Harry Taylor," she said, noticing the bottle but not commenting or changing her expression. "It could be a connection with Joanne Last."

The glass met the desk abruptly, the drink untouched. "Let's hear it," Boyd replied.

Stella motioned with her head and went back into the squad room, the DSI close behind her. Right now he needed to hear anything that resembled good news just to restore his faith. He hated feeling so weak, and showing it was even worse, but he couldn't help it.

"We've found at least two other cases that Harry Taylor worked on that relate to Joanne Last," Spencer said when he saw Boyd and Stella coming towards him. "And in both cases, accusations about Taylor's work methods were made, but no charges were ever brought against him."

"Let's hear the basics," Boyd ordered, sitting down.

Stella gestured to the board. "This case was in the late seventies, about two years before the Tony Greene case. There was a series of mutilations, but only one murder. A man was arrested and Joanne last was questioned as a witness, but not by Taylor. The evidence in this case was tenuous at best, but as there was no other suspect, he was convicted of murder and attempted murder."

"Who is he?" Boyd asked. "Or who was he?"

"Garry Smith," Stella replied, pointing to a name on the board. "He died about three years ago in prison, apparent heart attack."

Boyd stared at the evidence. "He never changed his innocent plea?"

Stella shook her head. "Never."

"And if the case was reinvestigated now?"

"It's possible the outcome could be different," Stella said.

Boyd nodded. "We can't touch it, though. Not enough of a connection. The second case?"

"More promising," Spencer said, standing up to take Stella's place. "About nine months before Joanne Last was arrested for the murders of Tim Castle and Betty Mason, she was questioned in connection with the murder of Conrad MacLean."

Boyd leant back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. "So we have three cases with Harry Taylor as the investigating officer and involving Joanne Last. Coincidence?"

"Taylor wasn't the investigating officer on the MacLean case, though in DI Burkley's - who was the guy heading the case - notes, he mentions Taylor as a source of information regarding a material witness, Joanne Last," Spencer replied.

Boyd exhaled noisily. "I don't like the way this is fitting together. On the surface, it could be nothing more than a coincidence…."

"But it looks like Taylor was leading a witch hunt," Spencer finished for him.

Stella nodded in agreement. "Taylor couldn't find a connection between Last and the first case and he carried on until he could convict. But why?"

"Because she's different, Stella," Boyd said with a heavy sigh. "You should know by now that people are like that."

The DC scowled and grumbled something in French. "Sorry, but people like that piss me off."

Boyd smiled. "Join the club."

"Unfortunately, this doesn't help us," Spencer said. "It doesn't bring us any closer to finding Grace, but it does mean the commissioner will have to reinvestigate all Taylor's cases."

"And if we get the ones that Last are connected with, we might find something," Stella added.

"We might," Boyd agreed. "I suppose I'd better phone him."

"Would you like some coffee, sir?" Stella called after Boyd as he went into his office.

The DSI turned and smiled, knowing her offer was so he didn't resort to the scotch. "Thank you."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

When Eve finally decided to emerge from the lab, she wondered if she had entered the right office. "What's going on?" she asked as she looked around at all the boxes.

"Evidence and transcripts from two more cases," Stella replied.

"Great. Why am I always the last to know these things?" Eve grumbled, opening a box and peering inside.

Spencer leant back in his chair and stretched. "You're not. We've only just found out."

"Care to explain?" Eve asked, sitting down.

"Boyd went to phone the commissioner to tell him about two of Harry Taylor's cases that also involved Joanne Last," Stella replied. "That was…how long ago, Spence?"

The DI looked at his watch. "An hour, hour and a half. Something like that."

"Then a few minutes ago, this lot arrived," Stella said.

Eve smiled grimly. "Great. More work."

"Alright, what have we got?" Boyd asked loudly, striding into the room.

Spencer pulled a face. "Give us a break, boss. This lot's only just arrived!"

"Relax, Spence, I was joking," Boyd said with a smile.

"You're in a good mood," Eve commented.

"If we don't find a good lead in one of these boxes I won't be," Boyd replied. "Anything on forensics from the original Joanne Last case?"

Eve shook her head. "Not yet, which I suppose is good. If the evidence checks out now, it means she was guilty."

"I can't see Taylor doing a proper job when he finally got her for something," Spencer pointed out.

Eve held her hands up. "You guys are the detectives; I just tell you what the evidence tells me. And right now, in my professional opinion, the conviction was sound. But I haven't finished yet."

"When you've finished with the evidence from that case, we've got…."

"I know, two more sets of forensics to recheck," Eve finished for Boyd. "I guess I'd better get back to work. Spence, give me a hand with these, will you?"

"There is one other thing," Boyd said, his expression sombre. "The commissioner has 'suggested' that I do a television appeal to see if the public know anything about Grace's disappearance."

"I thought you didn't like reporters?" Stella said, frowning.

Boyd sipped his coffee. "I don't. And I don't like the idea of this being made public either."

"Did the commissioner insist?" Spencer asked.

"Not yet."

Spencer smiled grimly as he stood and grabbed a box. "Great. Can this month get any better?" he asked.

Boyd nodded. "We could find Grace."

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

The days passed by at a steady pace as the team worked their way through the cases, re-examining everything they could without actually leaving the office; a stipulation by the commissioner when he agreed to let them look at the files.

Eve's professional opinion on the solidity of Last's conviction did a U-turn when the scientist discovered blood that looked suspicious, like it had been planted. Further tests showed it wasn't even Joanne Last's; the prosecution at the trial had said that it was.

The more Eve delved into the case, the more she was convinced Taylor had forced a confession and tampered with the evidence. Of course those observations were just her personal opinion; discovering whether it was true or not was the job of the detectives.

As it was, they agreed with Eve. The files they were ploughing through showed discrepancies all over the place, some more obvious lies than others. Boyd had moved into the squad room, far away from the scotch in his office, and kept himself busy by writing everything found on the board.

Four days after they started to look at the other cases, the commissioner paid them a surprise visit. "Have you found anything?" he asked.  
Boyd stood and nodded. "We have enough evidence to warrant a reinvestigation of the Joanne Last case, where she was convicted of the murders of Tim Castle and Betty Mason." He paused. "We think the conviction is unsafe, and should the defence get hold of this…well, they'll have a field day, sir."

"I see. Anything else?" the commissioner asked.

"We think that Miss Last might have played a bigger part in the Garry Smith case, which was the first time Harry Taylor encountered her. Forensics has improved so much, as you know, sir, that we can find things now that wouldn't have been obvious before."

"And the Conrad MacLean case?" the commissioner said.

"No connection as of yet, sir," Boyd replied.

"Boyd, my next question is off the record. Between you and me, I had no love for Harry Taylor or the way he did things, but he is dead now. Destroying his reputation won't do anyone any good," the commissioner said. "But bringing peace to those people he wrongly convicted, that is important. This Joanne Last. You said she figured in three of Taylor's investigations, or investigations Taylor had a hand in, and it was only the last one that she was convicted.

"So my question is this: do you think Harry Taylor carried out a witch hunt for this woman?"

"Yes, sir," Boyd replied firmly.

"Do you think she was guilty of murdering Castle and Mason?"

"No, sir."

"What about the mutilations and murder that Smith was convicted of?" the commissioner asked.

"I think it's possible Smith was innocent," Boyd replied carefully. "But I wouldn't like to venture a guess as to who was guilty."

"And MacLean?"

"Same answer, sir. But we're looking at this objectively," Boyd said. "If Last was an innocent party in all three cases, I will tell you so, sir. Then her only crime is kidnapping."

"What if she's guilty, Peter?" the commissioner asked.

"I can't say that for certain, sir, I can only give you good grounds to reopen the cases if the evidence doesn't correlate," Boyd replied. "Then it's up to someone else to say for sure whether she's guilty or innocent. Sir."

The commissioner smiled. "That was a very well thought out answer."

"Yes, sir."

"Have you given any more thought to the TV appeal?"

Boyd pulled a face. "No, sir, I haven't."

"You should."

"I should think about it or I should do it, sir?" Boyd asked.

The commissioner sighed. "I'm not going to make you do it, Peter. I know how much you loath the press. But please consider it."

"I have, sir," Boyd admitted. "Just give us one more day. If we don't find anything then I'll do the appeal."

"Alright, Boyd, one more day," the commissioner said. "You'd better get back to work, hadn't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"What did he want?" Eve asked, entering the squad room as the commissioner left through Boyd's office.

The DSI turned. "To pat me on the head for being a good boy," he replied.

Eve laughed. "No, seriously."

Boyd harrumphed. "Basically, he wanted to know if we thought Taylor was guilty of tampering. Off the record, of course."

"Of course," Eve repeated. "What did you say?"

"I said we thought so."

"I think it's more of a 'we know so' now," she said, then she looked around. "Where are Stella and Spence?"

"Food run. Have you found something?" Boyd asked.

"Not exactly. More like the lack of something," Eve replied, sitting down. "The lack of decent fingerprints to start with. I mean Last's prints are on the murder weapon, but to me they look too…obvious. Same with the hair that was left."

"Do you think I should do an appeal?" Boyd asked.

Eve looked at him. "It's entirely up to you. We all know how these things can go. If you don't do it, we might miss an important lead. But if you do it, you might aggravate whoever's got Grace, and we still don't know for sure if it is Joanne Last or not."

"I hate this," Boyd muttered, dragging a hand over his face.

Stella and Spencer returned then with lunch, though their moods were still subdued. "You can go next time, boss," the DI said. "It's like a madhouse out there."

"You've been in this office too long, Spence, that's all it is," Eve told him. "You're becoming allergic to people."

"Boyd's influence," Spencer replied with a shrug.

"Didn't they have anything else?" Boyd asked, holding a sandwich up.

Stella shook her head. "Cheese or ham. Or ham or cheese, whichever you prefer."

"Chicken salad or tuna mayo would have been nice," Boyd grumbled.

"Least it's edible," Spencer said.

Eve looked at him. "Had a few in your time that weren't?"

"A few."

The phone rang and everyone looked at each other. "I'll get it," Stella volunteered. "Hello, DC Goodman, cold case unit."

"You just missed the commissioner," Eve said.

"Good," Spencer replied.

"Merde! We'll be right there." Stella slammed the phone down. "Somebody has just left…a body in front of the building. The desk sergeant thinks it might be Grace."

The team had never moved as fast, all of them dropping whatever they were holding and running out of the office as though someone had offered them free food and drink at the local pub for a month. Boyd broke out in front and the others let him; they understood he needed to check Grace was alright. Eve, however, was flagging behind because she went back to the lab to grab her kit just in case it was needed.  
A small crowd had gathered in the foyer of the police building when the team arrived.

"Nobody touch her!" Boyd yelled, running towards them

Everyone froze, then the crowd parted to reveal a PC who had just bent down to check Grace's pulse. He turned to look at the DSI in surprise. "But, sir…."

"Don't touch her," Boyd repeated, his voice deadly quiet as he came to a halt. "We don't need the forensics being contaminated. Have you been in contact with her?"

The PC nodded and tried not to look afraid. "Yes, sir."

"Anyone else?" Boyd asked. Two more PCs raised their hands tentatively. "Don't go anywhere. Eve, please."

"Boss…," Spencer started to protest.

Boyd turned to look at the DI. "If there's anything at all on Grace's clothing or person that can link Joanne Last to her kidnapping, we need that evidence. Do you think this is easy for me?"

Spencer shook his head. "No. Sorry, Boyd, it's just…."

"You're worried about her. We all are," Boyd said, his voice surprisingly calm and controlled. "But we've got to keep a professional outlook. Stella, take these three officers downstairs. Collect their clothes, DNA samples and fingerprints if they're not already on file. Spence, go with her."

"Yes, sir," Stella replied before turning to the PCs. "If you'll come with me."

"Don't you lot have work to do?" Boyd barked at the rubber-neckers.

Everyone jumped a little and started to disperse quickly amidst mumbles of, 'Yes, sir'. But Boyd didn't look at any of them, he just kept his eyes on Eve as she worked methodically inspecting Grace's person.

"I'll need her clothes as soon as possible," Eve said quietly.

"I'll see to it." It wasn't until the words were out of Boyd's mouth that he realised what he was volunteering for. "What I meant was I'll take her home and then you can take her clothes," he amended quickly.

But Eve just nodded, not even cracking a smile. "Alright." She looked up. "We can take her now, if you want."

"Can I…?"

"You can help her up, it's alright," Eve reassured him. "I can always take your DNA later if I need to eliminate you."

Boyd nodded and knelt next to the profiler. "Grace, can you hear me?"

The temptation to reach out and touch her was overwhelming but Boyd held himself in check. He was still at work; he still had a reputation to uphold and until he and Grace had talked, he wasn't about to assume anything.

Grace groaned and her eyes fluttered open briefly as she reached for Boyd. "Imzadi," she whispered before passing out again.

TBC


	14. Chapter 14

Eve tried not to show her surprise when Boyd lifted Grace into his arms, though whether it was natural strength or adrenaline-induced, the scientist didn't know. Not that it mattered; Grace was back and that was the most important thing.

Boyd put Grace in the nearest room and then sent for the duty doctor. Eve noticed the DSI let go of Grace when he set her down, but he didn't move far away. The first thing the duty doctor said when he arrived was 'Why hasn't she gone to the hospital?' looking at Grace.

Before Boyd could tear a strip off him, Eve explained to the doctor the basics of the situation. The doctor gave Grace the once over, seemingly oblivious to Boyd hovering closely around him as he worked.

"She's been through an ordeal," the doctor stated eventually. "I strongly recommend that she be taken to hospital."

"No."

All three turned to look at Grace, whose eyes were just fluttering open. Boyd went straight to her and crouched down. "You should go," he said gently, taking her hand.

"I don't want to. I'm fine. I just want to go home," Grace replied, looking only at Boyd.

Eve watched the pair of them carefully, noting how automatic Boyd's actions were. "I'll take you," she offered.

The doctor clicked his tongue. "I don't think this is in your best interest, Ms Foley."

Grace glared at him and even though it was only a shade of what she could normally manage, he took a step back. "It's *Doctor* Foley, thank you very much. And I know what is in my best interest - to go home. And," she added, "Don't even *think* about making me go to hospital in your official capacity as duty doctor. I'm not a witness or a victim or anything to do with a case, despite what you might have been told, and I *am* going home."

Boyd kept his eyes on Grace; he knew if he looked at Eve, the pair of them would start laughing. The doctor, however, was not amused. "Fine," he grumbled. "But I hope you know what you're doing." He slammed the door as he left in a very Boyd-like fashion.

As soon as the doctor had gone, Grace's strong façade crumbled and she gripped Boyd's fingers. "Take me home. Please," she murmured.

He nodded and helped her to her feet. "Eve?"

"I'll bring my car round to the front," the scientist replied, heading off quickly.

"Grace, are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?" Boyd asked gently.

She gave him a wan smile. "No, I'm not sure." She sighed. "I just want some peace and quiet, Boyd. And I don't want to talk about anything just yet."

He smiled back. "I wasn't even going to ask. Can you walk?"

"Not without help," Grace replied.

Boyd put a strong arm around her. "That's what I'm here for. Come on. Knowing Eve, she'll be waiting for us."

Grace started to laugh but it soon turned into a sob and then she was crying into Boyd's shirt front. He didn't say anything, just held her to him and stroked her hair. There was a quiet knock on the door and Eve popped her head into the room.

"Oh," she said, looking slightly embarrassed. "I'll be outside."

"No, no. It's okay," Grace replied, pulling away from Boyd and wiping her eyes.

Eve pulled out a tissue and handed it to the profiler. "Here you go."

Grace smiled. "Thank you."

"Ready?" Boyd asked, looking at her and she nodded. He helped her out to the car, glaring at anybody that dared to stare.

"I told Spence and Stella that you were okay and going home," Eve said as they drove to Grace's house. "They wanted to come as well, of course, but I told them that they had work to do."

Boyd looked at her in the rear view mirror from the backseat. "Who made you boss?"

"I shouted louder than Spence did," Eve replied with a shrug, staring back. Grace, she noticed, was leaning against Boyd's shoulder, seemingly dozing.

For a moment, Eve and Boyd's gaze locked and several unspoken comments passed between them. From that second, Eve knew Boyd would never intentionally hurt Grace now and that she was suddenly the most important thing in his world. In turn, Boyd knew Eve wouldn't say anything to the others, not that there was anything to tell, and that he could talk to her if he needed to.

"We're here," Eve announced quietly after a while.

Boyd rubbed Grace's arm. "Grace," he said softly. "Grace."

"Hmm?"

"We're home."

Eve tried not to smile. Even though she knew Boyd was using the royal 'we', there was something…right about his comment. "Do you want me to come in with you?" the scientist asked.

"Do you want Grace's clothes?" Boyd replied. "For forensics, I mean."

"Doesn't have to be right away."

"Okay. Grace?"

The profiler looked at Eve and smiled. "Thanks, but I'll be fine. Thanks for the lift."

"Will you get a taxi back to the office?" Eve asked Boyd.

He nodded. "Later."

Grace looked from Eve to Boyd. "You're not going back now?" She sounded surprised.

"No," Boyd replied, sounding equally as surprised.

"But…."

"I'm not leaving you alone, Grace."

"I don't need looking after, Boyd," Grace snapped.

"I didn't say you did," he replied loudly. "I just don't want to let you out of my sight for a while, alright?"

Eve thought that was a wonderful time for her to leave. "I'll let you two sort this out alone. Call if you need anything." She drove off before either of them could say anything else to her.

Boyd looked at Grace and reached for her hand. "Let me stay at least for a little while," he said quietly. "I won't mother you or anything like that, I just want to be near."

"Sentimentality, Boyd?" Grace asked in an amused tone. But she took his hand and walked up the path. "I hope you've got keys."

"You mean these?" Boyd replied, digging into his pocket and making a jingling noise. He put the front door key in the lock and opened it. "Grace?"

She had frozen, staring at the house with sudden fear. "I'm alright."

"No, you're not," he said. "Look, maybe…."

"No, Boyd. We're going in. Just…don't let go, alright?"

"Never."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

It took a while for Grace to settle back into the house, and Boyd just stayed out of the way as she wandered around. He sat in the kitchen with a newspaper; it was open, but he wasn't reading. He was too busy listening to footfalls around the house, making a note of where Grace was and wondering he could judge her mood from how she was walking.

It was strange, but Boyd suddenly felt very attuned to Grace, her moods and her habits. He found himself feeling sensitive to *her* feelings; the whole situation terrified him, but he refused to run away from it.

"I'm going to run a bath," Grace said, coming into the kitchen.

Boyd nodded. "Are you hungry?"

Grace shook her head. "Not yet. I could use a cup of tea, though."

"Do you want me to bring it up?" Boyd asked, then he started spluttering like a schoolboy and blushing as red as a beetroot. "I meant…well…save me?"

She smiled and patted his arm. "I'll tell you what, Boyd, I'll put lots of bubble bath. That way I can hide behind the suds."

"Grace!" he protested. "That's not much help!"

Grace laughed and squeezed his hand. "You can brew a pot of tea and I'll take a cup up with me before I get into the bath. Is that better?"

"Yes," Boyd said, lacing his fingers with hers. "Grace, I…you know I'm not good at this."

"Then just say it and we'll worry about the niceties later."

"I don't want to leave you on your own." Boyd shook his head. "No, I won't leave you on your own. You've got a spare room I can sleep in, haven't you?"

Grace nodded. "I'll make the bed up later."

Boyd stared in surprise. "No arguing?"

"I'm too tired, Boyd. I'll argue tomorrow." She let got of his hand and headed out of the kitchen. "Kettle on!" she called over her shoulder.

Once the kettle had boiled, Boyd filled the teapot and then went back to the newspaper. He could hear water running upstairs and he waited for Grace to come back down for her drink.

Boyd grumbled at the business section, simultaneously wondering if Grace had a TV guide around anywhere, and then scanned the rest of the paper. He was just becoming engrossed in the sports pages when he felt something on his head. Absently he ran his hand through his hair, surprised it was still damp from the rain.

He stopped abruptly. It hadn't been raining when Eve dropped them off. Boyd looked up at the ceiling just in time for a drop of water to hit him in the eye. Then another came and another, and soon there was a steady scream of water coming down.

"Shit!" Boyd exclaimed, throwing the newspaper on the counter and running up the stairs two at a time.

He pushed the bathroom door open tentatively and his heart started to pound loudly when he couldn't see Grace. Then he opened the door all the way and saw her curled up in a tight ball in the corner.

Quickly Boyd crossed the room, turned the bath taps off and pulled the plug out before looking at Grace. She was staring at the floor, seemingly unaware he was there. Slowly, so he didn't surprise her, Boyd sat next to her and put his arm around her.

"Oh Grace," he whispered as she crumbled against him, sobs wracking her entire frame. Boyd lay his cheek against Grace's hair, his arms tightening around her as her fingers gripped his shoulders and biceps so hard he was certain there would be marks.

"I'm sorry," she replied between cries.

"For what?" Boyd asked in surprise. "Grace, you have nothing to be sorry for, alright? Nothing at all." He pulled his mobile out and made a quick call, then he looked at her. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Grace asked as he wrapped a towel around her, ignoring his own wet clothes.

"To my house," Boyd replied. "I think you'll be better there. But I have to warn you, I haven't hovered."

Grace gave him a watery smile and put a shaky hand lightly on his cheek. "Oh, Boyd."

TBC


	15. Chapter 15

"No."

Boyd sighed in frustration and ran his hand through his hair. "I'm not going to argue with you over this."

"Good," Grace replied.

"You're having the bed, I'm sleeping on the couch," Boyd said firmly.

"No."

"If you don't like it, go home."

Grace flinched. "That was cruel, Boyd."

He sighed again. "I know, I'm sorry, but it seemed the only way to make you see sense. You've been through an ordeal, Grace, and I don't need to be a doctor of any kind to know you need rest in a decent bed. And since I don't have a spare room set up…."

The taxi ride from Grace's house to Boyd's had been made in silence, Boyd's hands wrapped protectively around Grace's. Once there, he ran her a bath, which she enjoyed without incident, but what she didn't know was that Boyd sat outside the door the whole time, listening for any sounds of distress.

He then made a pot of tea and something to eat, and he'd even put the radio on so that the silence wouldn't deafen either of them. They had then sat down on the couch, close but not touching, and watched something on the television. Boyd had no idea what it was; all of his concentration was on Grace.

When she yawned for the fourth time in a row, he suggested, quite delicately, that she should go to bed and rest. That was how the argument had started. Grace wouldn't let Boyd give up his bed for reasons he didn't understand; he wouldn't let her sleep on the couch because it made an uncomfortable bed.

Grace's expression softened a little and some mischief crept back into her eyes. "You want to look after me," she said in a tone she knew would drive him mad and elicit a pained 'Grace' from him.

But instead Boyd just nodded, his expression grave. "Yes, I do. When you…when you left the team, and me, that was bad enough, but I knew you'd be back. I hoped you'd be back, though I didn't deserve forgiveness so quickly."

"We were both in the wrong that time, Boyd," Grace replied.

"Maybe. But this time, knowing you'd been…taken by someone, not knowing where you were or how I'd find you, or even if you were…." He stopped, emotion constricting his throat.

"If I was alive or dead," Grace supplied, her voice soft but with an undercurrent of pain.

Automatically, Boyd reached across the couch and took one of her hands. "I'm not going to push you, but when you're ready for talking, Grace, please talk to me."

The emphasis he put on 'me' wasn't lost on the profiler and she squeezed his hand. "You don't make it easy, but I'll try."

Her words cut Boyd deep but he tried not to show the hurt. After what he imagined Grace had just been through, he could forgive her for most things…at least for a while. After that, he didn't want to make anyone any promises.

Grace yawned again, giving Boyd the perfect opportunity to change the subject. "Go to bed," he said in a gentle but firm voice.

"I'm too tired to argue," Grace replied in a defeated tone. "Besides, it's only for tonight."

"What are you talking about?" Boyd asked.

"I'm going home tomorrow," Grace announced as she stood up, letting go of his hand.

Boyd frowned. "No, you're not."

Grace stared at him. "Pardon?"

Boyd stood as well, his dark eyes clouded with concern. "Grace, I know you're independent and strong-willed, but I can't let you go home. The woman that kidnapped you is still at large; if she took you from your house once, she can do it again." He shook his head slowly. "I won't risk losing you again."

"We'll talk about it tomorrow, Boyd," Grace said with a note of finality in her voice.

"We will," he agreed. "And don't to sneak out; I'm a light sleeper and an early riser."

"Really? So why are you so cranky in the mornings then?"

"I said I was an early riser, I didn't say I was an early…waker."

Grace smiled despite herself. "That's not even a word."

"You knew what I meant," Boyd replied with a shrug.

"Yes, I did. Alright, you win," she said, holding her hands up in surrender. "I'll stay for breakfast."

Boyd smiled back. "Good. Try to get some sleep, and if you need anything…."

"I know exactly where to find you." Grace hesitated, then reached up and kissed his cheek briefly. "Thank you, for everything."

"I'll send you a bill at the end," Boyd said, his smile turning gentle.

"Good. Night, Boyd."

"Night, Grace."

Boyd sat on the couch and listened to her wandering around his house, relaxing for the first time in over a week when he finally heard her get into bed. He leant his head back and closed his eyes, trying to calm his thoughts. On the one hand he wanted things to go back to normal, back the way they were before he found out that Grace….

Boyd sighed. He couldn't even say it to himself now. He didn't want to admit that Grace had feelings for him, and he hated himself for being so weak. Had he always been so cowardly? Was his solution to everything to just bury himself with work? Mary, Joe, even Sarah, all of it…. Boyd lifted his hand to his face and rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had never thought of himself as a coward; he always convinced himself that his career was important, but now he realised it should never have been more important than his family or those he loved.

He stood and started to walk around, stretching the kinks out of his body before he bedded down for the night, though Boyd wasn't hopeful of getting any sleep. He had promised Eve he wouldn't hurt Grace; now he doubted his ability to keep that promise.

And Boyd knew that the answer to 'why not?' was simple: he was scared. Grace knew him better than anyone else ever had, and no matter how hard he pushed, she had stayed around. True, they weren't in a relationship, but the fact they had remained friends for so long was a feat in itself.

Boyd knew that was what he was afraid of losing, Grace's friendship and more simply, her presence in his life. But as he tried to reason with himself, he wondered why he was worrying. Grace obviously loved him despite everything they had been through, and as he had just pointed out to himself, she knew him better than anyone else and knew what he was capable of.

"Enough," Boyd muttered to himself. He was going to drive himself insane keep mulling things over.

As quietly as he could, he went upstairs to use the bathroom and then realised all of his clothes where in his bedroom. Not wanting to disturb Grace, Boyd decided it wouldn't kill him to sleep in his shorts for one night. Noticing the light was still on, Boyd peeked into his room and smiled softly at the sight before him.

Grace was wearing one of his shirts from the looks of it, and she was hugging the duvet like it was a security blanket. Resisting the urge to go in and kiss her forehead or brush the hair from her face, Boyd simply turned the light off and went back downstairs.

He was just getting comfortable on his lumpy couch when he heard a whimpering. Cursing himself for being an idiot, Boyd threw the blanket back and raced up the stairs two at a time. He flicked the light switch on his bedroom and panicked when he couldn't see Grace, but after the bathroom incident, his eyes moved immediately to the corner of the room.

"I'm so sorry, Grace," Boyd murmured as he crossed the room to her, dragging the duvet off the bed as he passed it.

He sat down next to her and she immediately clung to him, her tears making a wet trail down his bare chest, her breath tickling the hair there, but he didn't think laughing would help the situation. Wrapping the duvet around them as best he could, Boyd put both arms around Grace and held her closely.

"It's alright, I'm here," he told her, kissing her hair.

As Grace's breathing become shallower and more even, Boyd wondered what trauma she must have been through to make her want to hide in a corner, especially knowing what a strong woman Grace was. Judging by the fact it had happened twice in one night, Boyd guessed she had been through a hell of an ordeal.

Trying not to think of the aches and pains both of them would have in the morning, Boyd closed his eyes and tried to sleep, his last thought being that he wasn't letting Grace go anywhere for quite a while.

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

Despite the uncomfortable sleeping position, neither Grace nor Boyd complained the next morning. In fact, they said very little to each other as they both went about their normal routines as though the other wasn't there.

To an outsider, they looked like an old married couple moving around each other with practised ease, but in truth, they were both avoiding each other, putting off the discussions they knew were inevitable.

"When we get to work, Boyd," Grace started over her morning cup of tea, "And I am going to work today, so please don't say I can't."

"I wasn't going to," he replied.

"Good. When I get to work, don't mollycoddle me. Keep an eye on me if you must…."

"Try and stop me," Boyd muttered.

Grace ignored him. "…But let me be of some use."

"I'm happy with that, but you know it might not be my decision to make," Boyd said, finishing his toast. "This case started with your kidnapping; the commissioner might not let you work it."

Grace looked at him. "Started with my kidnapping? What do you mean?"

Boyd sighed as he put his plate in the sink. "Maybe we should wait until we get to the office. I wouldn't want the others complaining that I'm monopolising your time."

A slight smile graced her face. "In other words you'd rather someone else explains it to me so I can shout at them instead of you."

"Is there going to be shouting?" Boyd asked.

"Knowing you, Boyd, yes."

"Actually there is something we need to discuss before we leave," he said, sitting down again.

Grace looked at his serious expression. "Oh dear."

"It's about Eve. Since you left her that book, she's been thinking and…." Boyd took a breath. "She wants to change her sex."

"That is not funny, Boyd," Grace said, glaring at him.

"Why did you leave me *Imzadi*?" he countered.

Grace blinked. "What?"

"You heard me, Grace," Boyd said.

"If you don't know the answer to the question, we have nothing to discuss." She rose and made to leave the kitchen.

Boyd caught her in the hallway, grasping her wrist gently to turn her round. "I wanted to know if you meant it," he said quietly. "I know I shouldn't ask, but I have to be sure."

"Yes, Boyd, I meant it," Grace replied. "But I thought I wouldn't see you again."

Her words hurt him, but he tried not to show it. "Does that invalidate the sentiment?"

Grace sighed and laced her fingers carefully with his. "This isn't the right time to talk about it, Peter. We've got work to do and a psycho to catch."

"Is that the technical term, Dr Foley?" Boyd asked in an amused voice.

"I was using small words so you would understand," she replied, squeezing his hand to lessen the blow.

"We will need to talk about it, Grace," Boyd said, serious again. "It changes everything."

"Change can be good."

Boyd nodded. "It can also be bad." He ran his hand through his hair. "We should go to work."

"Can you drop me at my house?" Grace asked.

"Why?"

"Because I want to drive myself to work and since my car isn't here…." Grace left the sentence hanging.

"What's wrong with me driving you?" Boyd asked.

"I feel like an invalid!" she snapped.

"You've been through an ordeal!" Boyd yelled back. Neither of them noticed they were still holding hands. "You can't just ignore that fact and carry on as normal or you'll end up with some post traumatic stress thing!"

Grace's lips curled into a smile of their own accord. "Post traumatic stress thing?" she repeated.

Boyd pulled a face. "You know what I mean."

"You want to look after me."

"Yes. And we're not going to argue about this, Grace," he said firmly. "You're staying with me until Joanne Last is behind bars."

"Boyd!" Grace protested.

"I mean it."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Always."

"Fine. Can I have my hand back?"

Boyd looked down and smiled sheepishly. "You need it?"

"I think tongues would wag if we turned up to work like this," Grace replied.

Somewhat reluctantly, Boyd let go. "Alright, let's go."

"Is there anything else I need to know before we get there?" Grace asked.

Boyd didn't look at her. "No."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

"Thank you," Stella was saying into the phone. "And you're certain…yes, alright…I…." She stopped suddenly and Spencer, who had only been paying scant attention to her, looked up to see why. "I'll have to call you back." Stella put the phone down and stood up, shoving her hands into her pockets. "Grace."

Grace smiled. "Hi, Stella. Spence."

Spencer was on his feet and across the room in seconds, enveloping her in a gentle embrace. "Why aren't you at home resting?" he asked.

"I tried, Spence," Boyd replied dryly. "Believe me, I tried."

Following Spencer's lead, Stella also hugged Grace. "It's good to see you. We were so worried."

"Really?" Grace asked.

Spencer and Stella looked at each other. "Hasn't Boyd told you?" the DI replied.

"I haven't told her anything," Boyd said, pouring coffee for everyone.

"Alright, I can confirm that it was Joanne Last who abducted Grace, according to the evidence present anyway," Eve announced, bursting into the squad room with her head down.

Grace smiled. "That's good to know."

"Grace!" Eve exclaimed. "Did you go to the hospital? You should be at home resting."

The profiler rolled her eyes. "Anyone would think I couldn't look after myself."

"We care, Grace," Spencer told her, his hand on her arm.

She smiled back. "I know. Thank you, all of you."

"These are for you," Boyd said, handing Eve a bag containing Grace's clothes.

"Thanks, I'll run a check on those later."

"Well since you lot don't want to let me out of your sight," Grace said, amused by everyone's lack of movement, why don't you tell me what's been happening in my absence and how many people Boyd's managed to piss off."

"Grace!"

TBC


	17. Chapter 17

"Well, we didn't realise anything was wrong until Boyd let us look at the letter you left him," Spencer started to explain. "Stella was suspicious about your comment about the commissioner."

Grace nodded. "I was…under duress to write the letter," she said quietly.

Stella put her hand on Grace's arm. "It's alright. We'll get a proper statement later."

The profiler smiled. "Thank you. Sorry, Spence. Carry on."

Spencer smiled back. "We watched your house and tried to find out how long you'd been missing, all with the commissioner's approval. Then you called us. It took us a while, but we finally managed to work out all the clues and from those we found Joanne Last."

"Yeah, thanks for that, Grace," Eve said cryptically.

The profiler looked apologetically at the scientist. "Sorry." She frowned a little. "Boyd said you were…."

"Never mind, Grace," Boyd said quickly, interrupting. "Carry on, Spence."

Stella stood up to take over. "We pulled everything on the Last case, and it was Boyd who worked out the next clue you had left."

Grace frowned again. "Which clue?"

"About conning people," Stella replied. "We cross referenced all of DS Taylor's cases to look for a connection with Joanne Last and we came up with two, both of which held discrepancies."

"DS Taylor?" Grace repeated.

"Harry Taylor," Spencer supplied.

"I know who he is, Spence," Grace snapped. "Or rather who he was. But why did you think I meant him?"

"He was the investigating officer in the Joanne Last case," Stella said slowly, obviously confused. "It was your psychological profile that helped to convict her."

"We know that allegations were made against Taylor during his career," Spencer continued. "We assumed that you were pointing us in his direction for some reason."

"You mean *you* assumed," Grace said, her voice low and angry, glaring at Boyd.

He leant back in his chair, surprised. "What? Taylor was a lousy copper who used to beat confessions out of anyone he fancied for the crime whether they were guilty or not!"

"And you've never done the same, have you?" Grace asked sarcastically.

Boyd's eyes went hard. "I would never force a confession from anyone unless *we* - that's 'we' as a team - knew they were guilty."

"I didn't mean for you to tear Taylor's reputation to shreds!" Grace shouted.

Boyd watched her leave the squad room and winced slightly as her door slammed shut. "Alright, let's just keep calm over this," he said, his eyes on Grace as she sat down on her couch, her back deliberately turned to them. "Eve, are you certain the evidence was planted to incriminate Last in Mason and Castle case?"

"As certain as a forensic scientist can be, Boyd," Eve replied. "But I only deal with facts and they don't always tell the right story."

He nodded and turned his gaze back to the team. "What about the other two cases?"

"It looks like Smith might have been guilty after all, sir," Stella said quietly. "There are some discrepancies with phone records that we're trying to…how do you say? Iron out."

Boyd smiled slightly. "Good. Anything else?"

"Nothing on the MacLean case, sir," Spencer said.

"Alright. Carry on and let me know when you've found something." Boyd stood up and walked to Grace's office, knocking but not waiting for an answer before he went in.

He stood with his arms behind his back, leaning against the door, just looking at her. "You should have told me," Grace said quietly. "You shouldn't have left it up to the team."

"I didn't think it mattered."

"That's your problem, Boyd, you don't think sometimes," Grace replied.

"I don't get you, Grace!" he exclaimed, bringing his arms around so he could throw them up in the air. Without waiting for her to respond, he turned and wrenched the door open, slamming it shut behind himself.

Stella watched Boyd storm into his office and give his door the same rough treatment. "Looks like things are back to normal," she stated.

Spencer just nodded. "Yeah."

But Eve was frowning. Without a word to the others, she crossed the squad room and went into Boyd's office without knocking. "What's going on?"

"Not now," he replied.

"Grace has been through an ordeal and you're shouting at her," Eve said. "How is that supposed to help?"

"She won't talk to me!" Boyd yelled back.

"It's too soon, Boyd. Use your head."

"Leave me alone."

Eve looked at him, her anger dissipating slightly. "Think about it. Grace had a relationship with Taylor, didn't she?" the scientist asked, and Boyd nodded slowly. "There will still be some residual feelings from that, even though she knows now what he was like. The knowledge can't change our memories."

"I know that," Boyd snapped. "But you don't…." He sighed suddenly. "You don't know what he did. Do you know about the Tony Greene case?"

Eve nodded. "I heard about the reinvestigation, and I saw Grace's plight on the television."

"During that investigation we discovered that complaints were lodged against Taylor at the time, and that he used Grace's psychological profiling to break suspects down," Boyd explained. "That way he could get them to sign a confession whether they were guilty or not. He had one of the highest success rates of any policeman at that time, and even when he died because he driving while drunk, the coppers in his nick covered up for him."

"Like Eddie Vine," Eve said.

Boyd nodded. "I don't exactly expect Grace to be happy about this, but she has to believe I didn't deliberately set out to destroy him."

"Maybe you should tell her that," Eve suggested. "Right, I'm going to run a check for DNA on Grace's clothes and then I'll finish going over the evidence for those other three cases." She nodded a little and left.

Boyd held his head in his hands for a while, not bothering to check if his subordinates were doing as they had been asked or if Grace had moved. He just wanted the maelstrom of emotions inside him to stop, so he could think clearly again.

The phone on his desk rang and with a weariness that made him seem older than he was, Boyd sighed and picked the phone up. "Boyd."

*"I hear Grace has been returned safe and well,"* the commissioner said without preamble.

Boyd didn't even bother straightening in his chair. "That is correct, sir."

*"Has she been checked out at the hospital?"*

"She refused to go, sir, and I wasn't about to force her."

*"Yes, she is strong willed, isn't she,"* the commissioner stated. *"I take it she is at home resting, then?"*

To lie or not, that was the question. "No, sir," Boyd replied truthfully after a hesitation that was a heartbeat too long. "Grace wanted to help with the investigation anyway she could. Her insight to Joanne Last might prove…."

*"It doesn't matter, Boyd,"* the commissioner said. *"You're off the investigation."*

"Which one?" Boyd asked in a sullen tone.

*"Both of them. I told you that you wouldn't be heading the Harry Taylor investigation and I meant it. You've got a personal vested interest in proving that he did force confessions from suspects, which a defence would use to tear the investigation to shreds."*

"I understand that, sir, but what about the kidnapping?"

*"Again, you're too close to the case, all of you,"* the commissioner replied. *"I let you run with it because you know Grace better than anyone and your team had the highest chance of finding her. But now she's back, your team cannot head up the investigation to find Joanne Last. You're all personally involved and a conviction would never stick. I'll assign someone else to the case immediately."*

Boyd clenched his jaw. "Yes, sir. When can we expect the files to be collected?"

*"I'm sure you're aware of the serial rapist that is operating in North London at the moment,"* the commissioner said. *"We're pulling out all the stops to catch him, so it may be a few days before I can get someone to take over the kidnapping investigation. I've already assigned DI Thorne from serious crime to deal with the Taylor case. He's a good man, done a lot of work with internal affairs. If Taylor was dirty, Thorne will prove it."*

"He was dirty alright, sir," Boyd said quietly, finally looking over to Grace's office.

*"Obviously if you continue to work on the kidnapping until someone can take over, I can't really complain,"* the commissioner continued. *"But do it by the book, Boyd. And make sure the rest of your team know that."*

"Yes, sir."

*"DI Thorne will be down this afternoon to collect everything you have on Harry Taylor. Make sure it's all there, Boyd,"* the commissioner said in a firm voice.

"I will, sir," Boyd replied, holding the phone to his ear long after the click that announced the end of the call.

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

The rest of the day passed at an agonisingly slow pace, and Boyd spent most of it in his office avoiding everyone, especially Grace. He found it hard to believe that she had only been returned to them the day before; the way she and the rest of the team were acting, it was like nothing had happened.

But Boyd couldn't forget. He couldn't forget how helpless he felt not knowing where Grace was or how they were going to find her; he could shake the feeling that surfaced when he thought he had lost her.

Just before two o'clock, Eve appeared looking mildly triumphant, and as Boyd made his way into the squad room, he saw similar expressions on Spencer and Stella's faces. Grace left her office at the same time Boyd left his and there was a moment's awkward hesitation as they saw each other.

They Boyd gestured for her to go in front of him and when she sat down, he chose the seat next to her, hoping she would think it was more out of habit than anything else. Grace glanced at him, but didn't pursue the seating arrangements.

"What have we got?" Boyd asked, sipping his cold coffee.

"I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that Joanne Last did not kill Tim Castle and Betty Mason," Eve started. "The blood used to corrupt the scene is the same type as Last's, but it's got a completely different DNA profile. I don't even think it's female."

"Shit. Do we have any idea who *did* kill them?" Boyd asked.

Eve shook her head. "Not yet, but I'm running the profile through the data base. We might be lucky and get a hit, or we might not."

Boyd nodded. "Anything else?"

"Phone records show that Garry Smith's alibi for the night of the murder he was convicted for is false," Spencer continued. "We triple checked them and there's no doubt."

"So why was he convicted if the original investigating team thought his alibi checked out?" Grace asked, clearly confused.

Spencer shrugged. "Unknown. They got a conviction from a sighting that placed Smith at the scene of the crime. There was very little other evidence, except for an extremely clear boot print that just happened to match Smith's footwear."

"But he signed the confession and never made any allegations against DS Taylor," Stella said. "It was only after he was convicted that he started to protest his innocence."

Boyd exhaled noisily. "Alright, so we know that Joanne Last is not guilty of two of the crimes connected to her, one of which she was convicted for, yeah?"

Spencer nodded and spoke for the team. "Yeah."

"Alright. So, so far she's only guilty of kidnapping. Does everyone agree on that?" Boyd asked. Everyone nodded, though he noted Grace looked pale. "What about the MacLean case?"

Spencer, Stella and Eve looked at each other. "I wouldn't put an innocent flag on that one just yet," the scientist said carefully.

"But Last wasn't even connected to the murder except through Taylor muddying the waters!" Boyd exclaimed.

"I know, but I'm checking the evidence again just like you said," Eve replied. "Which means running all blood and tissue samples against Joanne Last just to be sure."

Boyd held his hands up. "Alright. Anything else?" Everyone shook their heads. "Good. Grace, a word, please."

The other members of the team exchanged glances along with raised eyebrows, but prudently said nothing. Grace followed Boyd to his office, entering the room before him, but didn't sit down. She wanted to see where he would sit.

Boyd saw her hesitate and went straight to his comfy chairs, hoping to ease some of the tension in the air. "Sit down, Grace," he said, trying not to make it sound like an order.

Grace sat and minutes passed before either of them spoke. "What do you want, Boyd? I've got work to do."

"I want to know what happened to you, Grace," he told her softly, holding her gaze. "I need to know what we're up against. Is Joanne Last likely to come back for you?"

"I don't know," Grace replied with a sigh.

Boyd frowned a little in concern. "What happened?"

"She tortured me, Boyd, alright?" Grace said finally. "She would put me in a bath and mock-drown me. She starved me and beat me. Happy now?"

"No, I'm not happy now. Why didn't you tell me this yesterday?" Boyd asked, his dark eyes shining with hurt.

"Because it's too soon!" she exclaimed, her voice higher than normal.

"Alright, Grace, I understand that," Boyd said soothingly. "Are you going to explain *Imzadi* to me? Do you think of me as a hero of some sorts?"

"Perhaps I should have left you my copy of *Hannibal* instead," Grace said bitingly.

But instead of looking hurt, Boyd smiled. "End result is the same."

Grace frowned at him. "What?"

"In *Hannibal*, Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter go off together, and as far as we as readers know, live happily ever after," Boyd replied.

"Grow up, Boyd," Grace snapped, storming out and back to her own office.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Around four o'clock DI Thorne and a couple of DCs came down to collect all the material pertaining to Harry Taylor's cases, which Spencer and Stella had ready for them. There was one slight hiccup, however; Eve was still waiting for results to come through on two DNA samples, one for the MacLean case and one for the murders Last was convicted of.

Thorne took some convincing that the results would only be given to Dr Lockhart as she was the one who requested them. In the end he conceded, stipulating that as soon as Eve had those results, she would send them straight to him. Eve, of course, agreed.

Around five o'clock, Boyd stretched and surveyed his office. A cup of very cold coffee stared at him from amidst all the paperwork on his desk, and he could feel his jacket, slung over the back of the chair, sticking in his back.

When the doors from the lab burst open, Boyd nearly shot off his chair. Out in the squad room, Stella had been making more coffee and was so startled the coffee granules went everywhere. Spencer's empty cup went skidding across his desk as he hit it, and out of the corner of his eye, Boyd saw Grace jump as well.

Eve walked straight up to the clear board and was about to start talking when she saw the whole team was glaring at her. "What?" she asked.

Boyd was too tired to explain so he just chuckled. "Nothing. What have you got for us?"

"This is Joanne Last's DNA profile," Eve said, putting a piece of paper up on the board. "And this is the DNA profile from the blood found at Conrad MacLean's murder site." She put a second piece of paper up under the first. "Notice anything?"

"They're the same?" Stella ventured.

Eve nodded. "There was also a hair found on MacLean's body." She added a third piece of paper. "They all belong to the same person."  
Spencer frowned and pointed to the board with his pen. "So Last *was* guilty of MacLean's murder?"

"I would say so, but I'm not a detective," Eve replied.

"What about Tim Castle and Betty Mason's murders?" Boyd asked. "Have you got a match for who killed them?"

"I do." Eve put a fourth piece of paper up, starting a new column. "This is completely different to Last's, but I did get a hit. A Diego Lorenzo Perreira."

"Where the hell does that name come from?" Boyd asked.

"Spanish Italian Portuguese descendent, I would guess," Grace replied, an edge to her voice that everyone noticed.

Eve nodded quickly. "He was arrested for ABH, rape and GBH on four separate occasions. He eventually charged with two counts of manslaughter, four counts of rape, one ABH and one GBH. He was active at the time of Castle and Mason's murders, and he was in the area."

"So we could add double murder to that distinguished record," Spencer said in a slightly sarcastic tone.

"I'd better get these results sent to DI Thorne," Eve announced, taking her leave before anyone could say anything else.

Stella stared after the scientist in surprise. "Was she supposed to do that?" she asked.

"Probably not," Boyd replied, glancing to his left to see what Grace thought. She wasn't there. He tilted his head, looking into her office, and saw the profiler already seated behind her desk. At least the door was open; she wasn't shutting the world, and in particular Boyd, out permanently.  
The phone ringing brought Boyd's attention back to the squad room and he watched as Spencer answered. "Cold case unit…. Yeah…. Really?… Alright, send them down…. Interview room one…. Thanks."

"Good news?" Stella asked.

"Could be," Spencer replied. "Someone's arrived wanting to talk to us."

"About what?" Boyd asked.

"They didn't tell the desk sergeant. They're being brought down anyway."

Boyd nodded, his gaze drifting back in Grace's direction "Okay."

"Do you want us to do the interview, sir?" Stella asked.

"Hmm?" Boyd looked at the DC. "No, you and Spence concentrate on finding Joanne Last before the commissioner finds someone else to take over." He stood and ambled over to Grace's office. Hands on the doorframe, he leant in without knocking first. "There's someone here who says they have information for us."

Grace looked up. "Information about what?"

Boyd hesitated. "We don't know. They just said it was relevant to our current enquiries."

"And?"

Boyd decided that talking to Grace sometimes was like pulling teeth, especially at the moment. "And I'd like you to come and talk to them with me. That's not asking too much, is it?"

"You always ask too much, Boyd," Grace snapped.

Boyd looked as though he had just been slapped, and for a moment, the profiler thought he was going to come into her office and try to talk to her properly. It would have been a nice change, and perhaps they could have sorted things out, but it didn't happen. Instead, his expression turned flat and guarded, emotional distance between them far greater than the physical distance.

"It wasn't a request, Dr Foley," Boyd said. "Spence and Stella are still busy going through the case notes and this isn't a situation where I can interview alone." He turned. "They're being shown to the interview. We'll go down in ten minutes."

When Boyd reached his office, he sank into the nearest chair, his back to everyone. He didn't understand his own emotions lately, so tumultuous that they were; how could he expect anyone else to understand?

Boyd leant his head back against the window, his eyes closed, his breath coming in regular bursts as he tried to bring some order to the chaos of his mind. He had known Grace a long time and had always cared for her. He had never attempted to explain his protectiveness; it just was and that was the end of it.

But since she disappeared, and left him a book that all but announced her love for him, Boyd had begun to inspect his feelings more carefully. And now, in the coolness of his office, Boyd finally admitted how he felt: he loved Grace. Of course he couldn't just announce it to her, especially not with their relationship being what it was at that moment.

Boyd grunted softly. He wasn't exactly sure what the current status of his relationship with Grace was, and he didn't really want to ask. He was certain he wouldn't like any kind of answer that came out of her mouth.

Suddenly he was aware of someone sitting next to him, their heat transferring itself to his body. With slow movements, Boyd turned his head and opened his eyes, surprised to see dark blue orbs inches from his face.

"Why do you think we always end up fighting?" Grace asked quietly.

"Because we're opposites," Boyd suggested, content to just look at her rather than moving.

"Perhaps." Grace paused. "They say opposites attract."

"They do."

While Grace could see Boyd was no longer angry or frustrated with her, she could also see that he didn't want to talk. For some reason this upset her and she stood abruptly.

"We'd better get to the interview before this person walks," she said in a brisk tone, heading out of the office.

Boyd, confused by her sudden change in behaviour again, leapt to his feet and ran after her. "Grace!"

Stella and Spencer looked up, both mildly surprised but not willing to ask what was going on. "Sometimes I wonder if some things will ever change," Stella said, shaking her head.

"Probably not," Spencer replied.

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

"I don't understand why you're so upset with me," Boyd said as he caught up to Grace in the observation room.

"You deliberately set out to destroy Harry Taylor," Grace replied heatedly.

Boyd stopped in surprise. "I thought you didn't care, especially after what he did to you!" he exclaimed, gesturing wildly.

"Do you think I stop caring about you when you do stupid things?" Grace asked, turning quickly to face him.

Boyd's head moved back a little, surprised by the vehemence in her voice. "Grace, I…."

She sighed in exasperation. "I know, you didn't mean it, but goddammit, Boyd, try thinking before you speak or act sometimes."

"I do try," he protested. "But when I think about Taylor and the way he treated you…."

"It doesn't matter now," Grace said, turning away.

Boyd stepped forward and caught her hand. "It matters to me," he told her quietly. "He didn't deserve you, Grace. He didn't deserve…." Boyd shook his head. "Never mind."

"No, tell me."

He looked down at the floor, embarrassed. "He didn't deserve your love." Boyd's voice was so quiet, Grace had to strain to hear him. "I know I don't sometimes," Boyd continued, "But if I ever hurt you the way he did, you have my permission to kick me in the balls as hard as you like."

Grace couldn't help but smile. "I'll keep that in mind," she said, putting her hand on his chin and lifting his head up so she could look at him.   
"Thank you for caring, Boyd, but try and temper your protective urges a little, okay?"

"Alright," Boyd replied, smiling before his face fell. "Damn. I left my jacket in my office."

"Do you need it?" Grace asked as he released her hand and started to walk away.

"I feel undressed without it!" he called back to her. "You go on in."

Grace rolled her eyes and went into the interview room. "Sorry to have kept you waiting," she said to the figure, who stood with their back to the profiler. Grace frowned a little, then realised she hadn't equipped herself with an earpiece. She muttered, "Oh damn," under her breath before saying louder, "Excuse me for a moment, please."

The figure turned and was pointing a gun at Grace. "I don't think so, Dr Foley.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

In the few moments Boyd had been out of the squad room, it had turned into a hive of activity, even though there were only Spencer and Stella working. Boyd retrieved his jacket from his office, then stopped by Spencer's desk as he pulled it on.

"What's all this?" he asked.

Spencer looked up as he leant back in his chair. "Someone matching Joanne Last's description was seen about half an hour ago not far from here."

Boyd laughed incredulously. "What? Do we know where she is now?"

Spencer shook his head. "We're working on it."

Eve came in rubbing her eyes. "I need a break," she said by way of explanation for her presence.

"I wouldn't have said that if I were you," Boyd told her as he headed to the interview room.

"Why?" Eve asked.

"We could use another pair of hands," Stella replied as Boyd left the room.

The scientist nodded. "What do you want me to do?"

Spencer grinned at her. "Make us some coffee. And maybe make a doughnut run."

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

As Boyd opened the door to the observation room, his movements slowed until he ground to a halt. He wasn't sure why he had stopped, but his rarely used sixth sense for danger had just kicked in. Moving, slowly again, Boyd went to the desk and took out an earpiece, noting that the rest were there. Grace hadn't taken one, which made Boyd immediately suspicious. As he took his time to wire himself up, he studied the scene in the interview room. Grace was sat with her back to him, and the person they were supposed to be talking to was nowhere in sight. Boyd thought that maybe they were late, or perhaps they had decided not to show after all.

But as much as Boyd would have liked to believe that scenario, he knew it wasn't true. His gut instinct was telling him trouble lay in the interview room, and from the stiffness in Grace's posture, Boyd knew it was serious.

Taking out his mobile, he dialled Spencer's number. "I want you and Stella to gear up now," Boyd said quietly. "Don't ask why, just do it. I want you outside the interview room within five minutes. Make it less if you can. Just drop everything, Spence. You'll understand why when you get here."

Ending the call and slipping his phone back into his pocket, Boyd set up the external recorder in the observation room before going into the interview room, making sure he appeared unaware of what was really happening.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Spencer slammed his phone down and jumped to his feet, startling his colleagues. "What's wrong?" Eve asked.

Spencer didn't look at her when he replied. "Stella, Boyd wants us armed and in the observation room about ten minutes ago."

Stella blinked a few times, her expression blank as she processed the comment. Then her eyes widened. "Has something happened?"

"Not yet," Spencer replied grimly. "But from Boyd's tone of voice, he's expecting something to."

"What do you want me to do?" Eve called as Spencer and Stella jogged out of the room.

"Call armed response and get us some back up!" Spencer shouted back. "And stay where you are!"

Eve was on the phone before they had disappeared from sight, speaking in a controlled, if slightly strained, voice. The conversation was brief and to the point, and when she'd finished, Eve reached into her lab coat pocket and took out her cigarettes. As she took a drag, she found herself hoping that Boyd would yell when he came back. It would be the surest sign he could give that everyone was alright.

WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD

Boyd walked calmly into the interview room and unbuttoned his jacket as he sat down. "Sorry for the delay," he said, not looking around the room at all.

"That's quite alright," Grace replied, her voice even, but with a note of panic that Boyd caught.

"Has this person not shown then?" Boyd asked, crossing his legs and glancing sideways at Grace.

Grace stared back, her eyes wondering what the hell he was up to. "Not exactly."

Then Boyd moved his left hand to cover hers. "It'll be alright, Grace."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Joanne said from behind him. There was a deafening click in the silence as she locked the door. "Now isn't this cosy?"

"This is pointless," Boyd replied without looking around. "An armed response unit is on its way right now. Unless you put that gun down, you won't get out of here alive."

Joanne just laughed. "Neither will either of you, so what does it matter?"

Boyd kept gazing at the wall, his hand squeezing Grace's gently. "I know you didn't murder Tim Castle and Betty Mason. Harry Taylor planted blood at the crime scene to incriminate you. He wanted to put you behind bars ever since the murder Garry Smith was arrested for. Taylor didn't think you were guilty of anything, he just didn't like you. Then when Conrad MacLean was murdered, you were at the top of Taylor's list as a suspect even though you weren't connected to MacLean in the slightest."

Joanne came around the side of the table and sat down opposite Boyd and Grace, the gun trained on both of them. Her expression was unreadable as she studied Boyd carefully.

"So if you hand over the gun now, all you'll be charged with is kidnapping," Boyd continued in the same even voice. "And we might even be able to play that down."

"Even if I believed you - which, incidentally, I don't," Joanne replied, "Why would I want to let Dr Foley live? Have you any idea what that bastard Taylor put me through, or what I went through in prison?"

"No, I don't."

"And you don't care, do you?" Joanne asked in a mocking tone.

"No, I don't," Boyd replied calmly. "I'm not in the business of dealing with unreasonable people either." A muffled cough in his ear made him jump, having forgotten he was still wearing his earpiece.

Joanne sneered. "You're just the same as Taylor. You'd do the same to me as he did in a heartbeat."

Grace squeezed Boyd's hand so tightly to remind him to keep his temper in check that her nails drew blood. "I'll forget you said that," Boyd replied in a tight voice. "Now put the bloody gun down and let's all leave this room in one piece."

Joanne was studying him again. "Can you prove I *didn't* kill Tim and Betty?" she asked.

Boyd nodded. "We can. In fact, we think Taylor might have hired someone to do it, but we'd never prove that. We also know that Betty was your half sister, and that family is very important to you."

"Shit," Joanne muttered, her face draining of colour.

Grace squeezed Boyd's hand again, gentler this time, encouraging him to carry on in the same vein. She didn't dare speak, but he knew she thought he was doing a good job.

"We also know that Garry Smith did indeed commit the murder he was arrested for," Boyd continued. "Our forensic scientist has found Smith's DNA on the murder weapon using a procedure that wasn't available when he was arrested. There is no doubt that Smith was guilty."

Joanne was now shaking. "But why? Why did Taylor want to persecute me?" she asked, lowering gun slightly.

"Because you were different," Boyd replied in a quiet tone.

Through their still joined hands, they were able to communicate a great deal. Grace knew the details of the investigation as well as Boyd did, and she knew what he could say next. But he still needed her agreement to continue; his subsequent move could very well put them both in danger. Boyd was more than willing to risk his own life as he had done before, but he refused to put Grace in harm's way any more than was necessary.

Joanne was still trying to compose herself as the news that she had been wrongly imprisoned sank in, and Boyd took advantage of her distracted state to deliver the fatal blow.

"And because you killed Conrad MacLean, simply because you didn't like him," Boyd said. Before the last words had left his mouth, he pushed away from him as much as he could with only one arm while lashing out with his legs, catching Joanne in the knees and causing her to topple over backwards.

She scrabbled at the edge of the table, trying to get a grip on it and failing because of the gun in her hand. Before Joanne touched the floor, Boyd was on his feet and rounding the table.

Someone was screaming.

A shot rang out in the interview room, the enclosed space magnifying the sound tenfold, and out in the observation room, Spencer and Stella took aim at the door. A second shot sounded and Grace could only watch helplessly from the corner as Boyd crumbled to the ground. From her position she couldn't tell if he had been hit or if he was trying to tackle the gun from Joanne.

Someone was screaming.

Grace was dimly aware of more shots, followed by the interview room door bursting open, and Stella and Spencer rushing in, the armed response unit not far behind them.

Someone was screaming.

It was only later that Grace realised it was her.

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

Grace looked down at the grave and wondered, not for the first time, what she was doing there. The wind whipped mercilessly around her and she wished she had brought a warmer jacket. Yet when she left the house, she hadn't been planning on visiting the cemetery; now she thought about it, she knew her journey there was inevitable.

The life expectancy of policemen was so short, Grace realised morbidly. The good ones, like Mel, always died young, while the ones like Taylor always died stupidly. Then the ones that buggered everything up in the first place always lived to a ripe old age. Grace shook her head. It was stupid, but it was life.

Her thoughts turned to that horrendous day; as a psychologist, Grace understood perfectly well that she still hadn't dealt with what had happened. She kept telling herself she was waiting for the right time, but she knew damn well there wasn't such a thing.

Grace had been petrified, stuck in the interview with Joanne Last pointing a gun at her, until Boyd walked in. He was calm and collected the whole time, his touch comforting her, giving her strength. She also knew that Stella and Spencer were right outside in the observation room, and Eve probably wasn't far behind.

Grace barely remembered what Boyd had said, but he managed to talk Joanne down and probably could have got her to give him the gun if he hadn't mentioned Conrad MacLean. Of course Grace had given him the silent go ahead to use that piece of information; with hindsight, she wished she hadn't.

She saw Joanne go down and then Boyd went round the table. When Joanne swung the gun in his direction, Grace froze. She remembered feeling numb, every part of her frozen. She had wanted to help him, but she couldn't and she had hated herself ever since for her inaction.  
More than that, Grace was angry and she knew that was why she couldn't move on. She was angry with herself for freezing in the face of danger, but she was angrier with Boyd for doing the stupid, heroic thing by trying to save her.

Grace was surprised to find her cheeks wet with tears, the wind making the tracks sting. She heard the shot, saw Boyd fold, and then the rest was a blur. Spencer told Grace later that she had to be sedated because she was on the verge of being hysterical, and that truth made Grace angrier with herself. She was embarrassed to have been reduced to such a state in the first place, but then to have the rest of the team witness it…. She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. Why did the past always have to come back and haunt people? One mistake can ruin a life; Grace had seen it happened often enough but she never thought it could happen to her.

She heard the gravel crunch underfoot behind her and she stiffened. She knew who it was - she knew it wouldn't be anyone else - but she didn't know if she wanted to talk yet.

The feel of a hand on her shoulder made Grace relax, but only slightly. She was still so angry that if she opened her mouth, she would just yell until she felt better, and he didn't deserve that. Or perhaps he did.

"You're cold," Boyd stated.

"What do you expect? It's freezing out here," Grace snapped back.

"Take my jacket," Boyd said, his voice uncharacteristically subdued.

Grace turned, jerking herself away from his touch in the process. "I don't need your gallantry, Boyd, just like I didn't need your heroism."

There, she had said it. The root of the problem was out in the open and suddenly Grace wished it wasn't. Suddenly she just wanted to collapse in his arms and hold him for a long time, but she knew things wouldn't be so easy to solve.

But instead of shouting back, Boyd just nodded, his hand falling to his side. "I understand." He turned and started to walk away.

"Boyd, wait!" Grace shouted, her anger at herself doubling over the way she was treating him. He'd risked his life to save her and this was the thanks she was giving him.

With a last silent goodbye to a dear friend who was no longer with them, Grace rushed after Boyd, who had stopped in the middle of the path. His back was to her, one arm at his side, the other strapped to his chest, his shoulders slumped. He'd lost so much weight he was almost painfully thin; almost, but not quite. In fact, Grace had to admit that Boyd looked good now. Not that he didn't before, but his hair had gone completely silver as well, and he looked…distinguished.

Not that she would ever tell him that. Grace knew how Boyd felt about his new image; he felt like an old man who had outlived his usefulness. They both knew his appearance was down to being shot, or stabbed, one too many times, reminding him once again that he wasn't getting any younger.

"I'm sorry, Boyd."

He shook his head. "Why are you sorry, Grace? Are you sorry for what you said? Or are you sorry because you actually said it out loud?" Boyd turned to look at her, his dark eyes sad. "If it's the first, then you shouldn't have said it. And if it's the second, well, you were thinking it. That's just as bad."

"I suppose next you'll have a psychological profile of me and this situation to share," Grace said acidly.

"You're the psychologist," Boyd replied. "You tell me."

"Isn't it obvious?" Grace asked, the edge gone from her voice.

"If it was, I wouldn't have asked," he retorted. "You won't talk to me and I'm not psychic."

Grace stared at him incredulously. "You're lecturing *me* about not talking?"

"Grace, please," Boyd pleaded. "We were so close to…to being happy, and now we seem to have lost it."

"What do you expect, Boyd? You almost got yourself killed - again!"

His expression turned surprised. "Is that what all this is about?" he asked slowly. "Because I keep putting myself in unnecessary danger? In your eyes, that is."

Tentatively, Grace reached out and put a hand on his arm. "Sometimes it's unnecessary, yes. You want to play the hero because you feel responsible for everybody. I admire that…."

Boyd stared at her. "But?" he said, his tone hard.

Grace lowered her gaze and her voice, and removed her hand. "Each time you do something like that I'm afraid I'm going to lose you. This last incident was just too much." She lifted her head and Boyd was surprised to see she was crying. "I can't go through anything like that again, Peter. And if you can't promise me you won't do anything as stupid again, then we don't have a future."

Boyd watched as Grace started to walk past him. "Are you blackmailing me?" he asked incredulously.

She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him with sad eyes. "No, Boyd, I'm just being truthful. I love you…I'm *in* love with you, and just the thought of something happening to you…." Grace shook her head. "I can't take it. I'm sorry."

As Boyd watched her walk away, he felt something fracture inside him. He couldn't make a promise if there was even the slightest chance he would break it, but at the same time, he could take the thought of Grace leaving him.

Trying not to jolt his injured arm, Boyd took off after Grace, catching her at her car. "Grace, wait, please," he said breathlessly, grabbing her elbow gently and turning her to face him. "I can't promise you that I'll never do anything that stupid again, but…." He took a deep breath. "…But I can promise I'll try my damndest not to. You couldn't take anything happening to me; I can't take losing you either." Boyd lifted his hand from her elbow to her face and caressed her cheek. "I love you too."

The next thing Boyd knew, Grace was throwing herself at him but carefully, and he was surprised how tightly he held onto her.

"This isn't going to be easy," Boyd murmured into her hair.

"Nothing worthwhile ever is," Grace replied.

"What do we tell the team?"

"Nothing. They already know."

Boyd grunted. "If only they were as good at their work as they were at gossiping," he grumbled.

"I think it was Eve's fault," Grace said.

"That does not surprise me." He looked down at the blonde head when he felt her shivering. "You're freezing. Come on, let's go home."

"Would that be your place or mine?" Grace asked mildly.

Boyd's step faltered. "That's a good question."

She squeezed him around the waist and leant more on his good shoulder. "We can talk about it later. Let's make it your place for now."  
As they walked away, content for at least a short while, a ray of pale sunshine met the earth just over Mel Silver's grave as though she too was happy for them.

FIN


End file.
